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A PRINCESS 
AND ANOTHER 


BY 

STEPHEN JENKINS 


NEW YORK 
B. W. HUEBSCH 
1907 



Cly 


° f CONGRESS 

rwv C'oles Received 

NOV 19 1 90? 

t OowneW Entry 

i Nov [Cf (^0 7 

C 4 - *ssA ' XXc„ U 

tq %qSS 

copy a. 


.sfl 


Copyright, 1907. by 
B. W. HUEBSCH 


Giro 

MY WIFE 















'"Alas! gentlemen/ cried Rip, somewhat dismayed, ‘I am 
a poor, quiet man, a native of the place, and a loyal subject 
of the king, God bless him!’ Here a general shout burst from 
the bystanders — ‘A tory! a tory! a spy! a refugee! hustle him! 
away with him!’” 


Irving’s Rip Van Winkle 



















- 








CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I 

A Bond-servant . 


PAGE 

. I 

II 

De Lancey’s Mills 


. 10 

III 

Pierre's Childhood 


. 26 

IV 

Contraband Trade 


• 37 

V 

At School .... 


. 49 

VI 

The Collegian 


. 61 

VII 

Elizabeth De Lancey . 


• 79 

VIII 

Captain Roscoe ... 


. 102 

IX 

The Captain’s Proposition . 


. 1 19 

X 

Mixed Motives 


• *35 

XI 

A New Vocation . 


. 160 

XII 

Coming Events 


. 174 

XIII 

Hostilities .... 


. 191 

XIV 

Lucie Hears of the “ Princess” 


. 209 

XV 

A Dispute with the Clergy. 


. 228 

XVI 

Pierre Goes on an Errand . 


. 248 

XVII 

The Lost is Found 


. 268 

XVIII 

The Westchester Light Horse 


. 282 

XIX 

A Tory Raid 


. 293 

XX 

New Rochelle 


. 310 

XXI 

What Deeds the Darkness Covers 

. 329 

XXII 

The Court-martial 


. 352 

XXIII 

A Prisoner on Parole 


• 367 

XXIV 

France and America . 


. 387 


Notes 

. 

. 401 


IX 



FOREWORD 


A FEW years ago the Author was traveling in 
France, combining with the pleasures of a bicycle tour 
in that country of good roads, a search for records of 
the French soldiers who took part in our Revolution. 
One evening found him in a small town in the valley 
of the Garonne, not far from the city of Bordeaux. 
He had taken quarters for the night in a neat, little 
auberge, had finished a dainty dinner, such as the 
French only have the faculty of serving, and was 
finishing his coffee and smoking a cigar in the small 
garden attached to the auberge, when his attention 
was attracted by the entrance of an old gentleman of 
about seventy, dressed in black. He carried himself 
with martial erectness, notwithstanding his three- 
score-and-ten years, and the Author watched him with 
interest as he sat down in what seemed by his actions 
to be a regular seat and called to the waiter. The 
waiter, without waiting for an order, at once pro- 
duced a big, black cigar and a pot of coffee. The old 
gentleman lighted his cigar, took two or three puffs 
and leaned back with a sigh of satisfaction as he 
sipped his coffee. 


xiv 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


He had given the Author a cursory glance as he 
entered the garden and now, attracted, perhaps, by 
the Author’s own attention to himself, returned the 
look with interest. 

“ M’sieur is a stranger,” he said. “ What brings 
you here, m’sieur? We are such a little town and so 
few people visit us from the great, outside world.” 

The Author told him he was collecting facts relating 
to the French soldiers who served in America. 

“ Ah ! m’sieur is an American,” he said ; “ America 
is a great country in which I take a great interest. I 
have some cousins in America. They have been here 
to our little town and visited us, for their great grand- 
mother was French. She was a sister of my great 
grandfather, so you see the relationship is not very 
close. From what part of America do you come, 
m’sieur? ” 

The Author mentioned the place, but it had no 
meaning for the old gentleman. 

“ Ah, yes, m’sieur,” he said politely. 

“ It is near the great city of New York, in West- 
chester county,” explained the Author. 

“ In Westchester county,” he repeated, evidently 
with awakened interest. “ Is there a place called 
Westchester in this county? ” 

“ It was formerly in the county, but it is now within 
the city of New York.” 

“ The reason I ask, m’sieur, is because I have at 
home some letters sent from there in 1781, many years 
ago — over a century.” 


FOREWORD 


XV 

As that was during our Revolution, the Author was 
at once aroused, thinking he was on the track of some 
more information on the matter of his search. 

“ Perhaps, m’sieur,” he said, “ some ancestor of 
yours served in the army in America ? ” 

“ No, m’sieur. Two ancestors of the Count’s at the 
Chateau on the hill above the town served in America ; 
but, I believe, on opposite sides.” 

The Author asked him many questions and dis- 
played so much interest about the letters, that at last 
the old gentleman said : 

. “ I have finished my coffee. If m’sieur would like 
to see the letters of which I have spoken, I would be 
very happy to show them to him.” 

The Author expressed his great wish to see them 
and accompanied the old gentlemen to his house. As 
they passed along the street, several people said to him 
with a polite bow : 

“Bon soir, m’sieur le notaire and one or two 
varied the salutation by saying, " M’sieur le capitaine.” 
So the old gentleman was both a soldier and a lawyer. 

They reached a handsome house contained in its 
own grounds, and entered by means of a latchkey 
which the Captain produced. He called a serv- 
ant and directed her to furnish lights for the library, 
which the Author found to be a large and well- 
filled apartment — well-filled, not only with books 
of the law, but with the works of the best French 
authors and many translations of the best English and 
American. The Author presented his card ; and after 


XVI 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


reading it, the Captain placed his hand upon his heart 
and bowed cordially, as he said with old-fashioned 
politeness : 

“ I am honored to know you, m’sieur. You have 
said you were interested in the service of the French 
army in America. You will find here, m’sieur, sev- 
eral books relating to that matter.” 

He took one from the shelf apparently at random 
and passed it to the Author, who started with pleas- 
ure ; for here was one of the most comprehensive books 
he had ever seen on the subject. While he was look- 
ing at it, the Captain was taking another from the 
shelf, which he also passed to the Author, who glanced 
rapidly over the titles of some of the books and saw 
that he had struck a mine of information on the sub- 
ject which had brought him to France. 

“ But, m’sieur, I am afraid I am tiring you with 
these books.” 

The Author assured him he was not, but, on the 
contrary, was delighting him by permitting him to see 
them. The Captain then opened a drawer in the 
bookcase and said : 

“ Here are the letters, m’sieur, of which I spoke ; ” 
at the same time producing several long letters, whose 
ink was faded with age, and whose paper was stained 
and brittle. The Author only had an opportunity 
to glance through them on this occasion, but he studied 
their contents later; for his visit in the small town 
lasted for a week and he and the notary became close 
friends, through interest in the same subject. The 


FOREWORD 


XVII 


next day the notary took the Author to the Chateau 
and introduced him to the Count and his family. The 
Count permitted him to copy many of the old letters, 
papers and records in his possession, including com- 
missions and discharges of his ancestors; and it is 
from them and the letters owned by the notary that 
the Author gained the facts upon which the following 
tale is based. 
























*. 


, 








r 









. 


' 




# 









A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


CHAPTER I 

A BOND-SERVANT 

It was on the morning of the eighteenth of June, 
17 53, that the Honorable Peter De Lancey — “ Peter of 
the Mills,” as he was known from the possession of 
that valuable property on the banks of the Bronx 
River — finished reading the news in the New York 
Mercury of that date, and glanced out of the window 
of his town house at the corner of Broad and Great 
Queen streets in the ancient town of New York. It 
was a warm day; and as the Exchange, which was 
located opposite his house, did not yet show signs of 
business activity, he decided to remain indoors for 
some time longer rather than subject himself to the 
heat of the sun. He once more picked up the dis- 
carded paper and glanced lazily over the advertise- 
ments which it contained. His eye at last caught the 
following : 

“Just imported in the Ship Fame, Capt. Seymour, from 
Hamburgh, and to be Sold on board the said Vessel, by Joseph 
Haynes or said Master; a Parcel of very likely, healthy Pala- 
tines of all Trades. As also Women and Children, &c. At 
Kruger’s Wharf.” 

1 


2 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


He read it over again, and then, getting his hat and 
gold-headed cane, looked into an adjoining room, 
where were a lady and several children. 

“ Betsy/’ he called to his wife, “ I am going to 
Kruger’s Wharf to see if I can get some servants for 
my mills at West Farms. Do you want anything? ” 

“ What is the nationality? ” 

“ Palatines and Germans, I presume from the adver- 
tisement.” 

“No,” she replied hesitatingly; “I did want 
another nurse for the children; but I wanted French, 
if I could get one.” 

“ Papa,” interrupted a boy of eight, “ may I go 
with you to the wharf? I like to see the ships.” 

Mr. De Lancey looked inquiringly at his wife, who 
nodded affirmatively, and in a few minutes the gen- 
tleman and his son James left the house. It was but 
a short distance to the water-front and only about ten 
minutes’ walk to the ship; but even in this short dis- 
tance Mr. De Lancey was continually touching his hat 
to the respectful salutations of the storekeepers and 
passers-by, who were proud to receive this recognition 
from a member of the Governor’s council. 

The ship was moored to the wharf; and on her 
forward deck was a group of her passengers, poor 
unfortunates who, to get to this new land, were will- 
ing to sell themselves and their services for a period 
of years in order to pay for their passage. One of the 
crew saw the approach of the distinguished and hand- 
somely dressed gentleman, with cocked hat, gold- 


A BOND-SERVANT 


3 


headed cane and silver shoe buckles, and at once ran 
to the cabin to give the Captain warning of his visitor. 
When Mr. De Lancey reached the gangway, the Cap- 
tain stood, hat in hand, bowing. 

“ Captain Seymour ? ” inquired the visitor. 

“ Yes, sir, Captain Seymour, at your honor’s serv- 
ice. Is there anything I can do to serve your honor ? ” 
“ I should like to look over your passengers. Have 
you any smiths or carpenters ? ” 

“ If your honor pleases to walk into my cabin, I 
will show your honor the list of passengers and their 
occupations and will send for those your honor may 
w r ish to see.” 

He led the way obsequiously, and the group of 
passengers examined Mr. De Lancey with heavy curi- 
osity, seeing in him, perhaps, their future master and 
trying to judge by his appearance as to whether he 
would be a kind one or not. Mr. De Lancey looked 
over the list submitted to him by the Captain, and 
having made his selections, issued from the cabin. 
Those selected were called from the group and ques- 
tioned by the visitor ^several of them were satisfactory, 
for they were told to stand aside, and then began the 
bargaining between the Captain and his customer as to 
the price that should be paid. The Captain, who had 
been so obsequious with his superior, showed himself 
to be brutal with his inferiors. He ordered them 
about in a rough way, and his language was punctuated 
with strong oaths; he punched some of the men and 
made them expose themselves in order to show their 


4 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


physical condition, and where the men had wives or 
children, he referred to them, or showed forth their 
good qualities in a way that gave little heed to their 
modesty. 

“ Come here, you damned brat ! ” lie would shout at 
some squirming youngster in such a ferocious way 
that soon he had all of the younger children screaming 
and crying in affright, while their parents looked on 
indignantly, too cowed to do anything but try to 
quiet their offspring. During all this time, James 
De Lancey had been observing things with boyish 
curiosity and interest. As the bargaining progressed 
and he saw the Captain's brutality, his little soul was 
filled with indignation and his eyes began to flash. At 
last, he could contain himself no longer, but drew up 
in front of the skipper and cried in his shrill voice : 

“ Captain Seymour, if that's your name, you are a 
brute. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for 
treating human beings like that." 

The Captain was so overcome at this unlooked for 
remonstrance that he fell back in amazement, almost 
as if he had received a blow. 

“ W ell ! I’m bio wed ! " he gasped. 

Mr. De Lancey said sternly, “ Peace, James," but at 
the same time he passed his arm caressingly, and 
almost with approval, about his son’s shoulders. The 
interruption caused a momentary quiet to fall upon 
the group; but the children once more took up their 
cries of fear, and some of those in the forward part 
of the vessel, hearing their companions howl, joined 


A BOND-SERVANT 


5 


in without knowing very well what it was all about. 
This new accession of noise drove the Captain frantic, 
and it also furnished him with a safety valve for his 
rage at the interruption of young James. In another 
minute he was among his passengers, cursing and 
swearing and hitting the bawling youngsters right and 
left. Mr. De Eancey watched him with indignation, 
but he was too politic to interfere with a ship-captain 
on his own vessel. His son watched, too, stamping 
his foot upon the deck and finally beginning to weep 
with anger at his impotency. 

It was while watching this scene that Mr. De Ean- 
cey’s eyes fell upon a comely young woman whose 
dress and appearance testified that her condition was 
superior to that of her fellow-passengers. She was 
about nineteen or twenty, and in her arms she carried 
a baby that was less than a year old. The hubbub of 
cries affected the baby, and it began to cry. The 
young woman began to pat it gently, at the same 
time saying, “ Tais-toi, mon petit, tais-toi, mon ange.” 

Mr. De Eancey caught the words and beckoned to 
the young woman to approach. The “ little angel ” 
had quieted himself under the woman’s injunction, and 
now, as he was carried near to Mr. De Eancey, he 
looked at that gentleman with wonder showing in his 
dark, baby eyes, while a smile spread over his face at 
the sight of the gentleman’s gold-headed cane and he 
began to crow with delight and to reach out for the 
attractive object. The gentleman was taken with these 
evidences of babyish pleasure and reached out his cane 


6 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


until the child held it in his grasp, at the same time 
glancing at the young woman and her baby. The 
latter was clean and neat, and its clothing was of a 
much better quality than that generally found on the 
children of immigrants; in fact, there was something 
about the child which showed that it might have been 
the offspring of gentle parents. 

“You are French ?” asked Mr. De Lancey in that 
tongue. 

“ Yes, sir,” she answered with a curtsy. 

“ What is your name, and where do you come 
from? ” 

“ My name is Denise Chantier, and I come from 
Guienne.” 

“ And is this your baby ? What is his name ? ” 

She hung her head for a moment, while a deep 
blush overspread her face; then she answered softly 
and with slight hesitation : 

“ Yes, sir; he is mine. His name is Pierre.” 

“ Ah ! that is my name, too. ’Tis a great distance 
from Guienne to Hamburg — perhaps, you were 
assisted ? ” 

“ Yes, sir. I was assisted. I went on a vessel 
from Bordeaux. It had a cargo of wine and brandy 
for Hamburg. That is why I am on this vessel.” 

Mr. De Eancey did not pursue the inquiry further. 
He formed his own conclusions from her words and 
manner, and from the fact that she was ready to serve 
under indenture. 

“ The victim of some rogue,” he said to himself, 


A BOND-SERVANT 


7 


“ who has gotten her into trouble and then left her in 
the lurch. From the appearance of that baby, the 
father must be a man of means and of gentle blood. ,, 

“ Are you accustomed to children? ” he asked. 

“ Yes, sir. I have little brothers and sisters, and I 
have had to care for them.” Her face took on a wist- 
ful look as she answered; then she spoke anxiously, 
“ Oh ! sir, you look like a good, kind gentleman. Buy 
me, please buy me, that I may leave this horrible vessel 
and escape the importunities of that fearful wretch 
who is its master.” 

He looked into her face, and there was something 
so innocent in the eyes turned so imploringly to his, 
that, notwithstanding the opinion he had formed of 
her and her trouble, his heart was moved to sudden 
pity and he answered : 

“ I will, my poor girl. My wife needs an additional 
nurse for our children, and I think you will do.” 

“Oh ! thank you, sir, a thousand times. I will serve 
you faithfully and well.” 

By this time the Captain had succeeded in scaring 
the children into silence, though here and there a sob 
could be heard, and had returned to his customer, and 
the bargaining was resumed. Mr. De Lancey was so 
disgusted with the Captain that he wished to get out 
of his presence; so that the bargain was soon com- 
pleted, and, followed by his purchases with their bags 
and bundles, the two left the vessel to go before the 
proper authorities and have the indentures made out. 

Mr. De Lancey, James, and the Captain reached the 


8 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


wharf and faced about to watch the debarkation of the 
bond-servants. James stood on the stringpiece, gaz- 
ing with childish interest at the scene. Denise Chan- 
tier was the first to follow her new master. She car- 
ried her baby on one arm, and in the other a bundle 
which contained her belongings. It seemed to be 
almost too heavy for her strength. Suddenly, as she 
came down the gang-plank, she tripped and fell, the 
baby and the bundle being thrown from her arms. 
The bundle rolled down the plank onto the wharf, but 
the baby fell with a loud splash into the water. An 
agonized scream burst from her lips, while the onlook- 
ers rushed to the edge of the wharf to look into the 
water. Before any one else could do anything, or had 
even made up his mind what to do, young James De 
Lancey had thrown off his coat, hat and shoes, and 
had dived into the water. In an instant he appeared 
with the baby in his arms ; a rope was thrown to him, 
and in another minute he was on the wharf, the water 
running in streams from his person, while the baby 
was hugged tightly in its mother’s arms. As soon 
as she saw it was safe, she turned with passionate 
eagerness to James, and, throwing her arm about him, 
cried, “ God bless you, you brave little gentleman.” 

Mr. De Lancey had at the first move of his son 
appeared to be alarmed ; now, he stood looking at him 
with love and admiration. 

“ That was a dangerous thing to do, my son,” he 
said gently. 

“ Pshaw ! papa ; I know how to swim, and when 


A BOND-SERVANT 9 

that baby grows up to be big enough, I’m going to 
teach him/’ 

The commotion on the wharf had attracted quite a 
crowd, and Mr. De Lancey listened with proud com- 
placency to the praises that were bestowed upon the 
bravery and presence of mind of his son. He called 
a boy to take Denise’s bundle, and sent another to call 
his lawyer to meet him at the justice’s office; then 
once more the group resumed their march to the 
justice of the peace. There the papers were made 
out, and Denise Chantier became the property of the 
Honorable Peter De Lancey for five years, for good 
and sufficient payment made to Captain John Seymour 
for her passage to the American plantations. 


CHAPTER II 


DE EANCEY’s MIIvLS 

By this time of the year most of those families who 
had country estates had retired to them for the sum- 
mer. The children in the De Lancey family already 
numbered eight, the birth of the last being so recent 
that Madam De Lancey had been delayed in the city. 
Most of them had already gone to their father’s estate 
at West Farms, in the county of Westchester; and a 
week after the arrival of Denise Chantier in the family, 
the rest of the children and their parents followed. 
It was early in the morning when the great traveling 
coach drew up at the door. A crowd of urchins gath- 
ered around and watched with interest as the lady 
and her children came from the house and entered the 
lumbering vehicle. The fat, negro coachman and the 
footmen strutted about proudly in their liveries until 
it was time to start. Such an exhibition to-day in 
New York would call forth the jeering comments of 
the street boys, but in those days they were too much 
in awe of the gentry to indulge in any remarks. Mr. 
De Lancey preferred the saddle to riding in the coach 
with the prospect of being jounced about by the rough- 
ness of what was by courtesy called a road. The bag- 
gage was placed upon a cart ; the men-servants mounted 
10 


DE LANCEY’S MILLS 


11 


horses, and behind each, one of the female servants 
rode upon a pillion, grasping firmly the man in front 
of her. 

As the little procession passed along Great Queen 
Street on its way to the Bowery Lane and the Boston 
post-road, Mr. and Madam De Lancey were the recipi- 
ents of many bows from their acquaintances and 
friends who happened to be about at this early hour. 
They soon left the precincts of the city, and their road 
was now lined with farms and country estates, among 
which were several belonging to the members of the 
De Lancey family. It was noon when they crossed the 
King’s bridge and paid their toll into the coffers of 
Colonel Philipse. Instead of continuing on their way 
to the eastward they turned north on the Albany road, 
and a ride of half an hour brought them to the stone 
residence of Mr. James Van Cortlandt, which had 
been completed but five years before. Here they 
enjoyed the hospitality which prevailed in all the 
colonial mansions, and, having eaten their dinners 
and seen that their horses were cared for, they once 
more resumed their journey. They were on the point 
of starting, when Madam De Lancey caught sight of 
the pale face and drooping figure of her new nurse. 

“ Denise,” she called, “ come here. Are you tired ? 
Poor child, you look half dead. It must have been 
hard for you upon the pillion, carrying your baby in 
your arms. Get into the coach. We will make room 
for you to ride the rest of the way.” 

Denise looked up with a grateful smile; and, mur- 


12 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


muring, “ Madame is very kind/’ entered the roomy 
coach and sank wearily upon the front seat, opposite 
her mistress. 

Madam De Lancey had congratulated her husband 
several times during the past week upon his selection 
of her new nursemaid. Every day Denise showed 
some additional accomplishment, and the children were 
delighted with her; but what surprised her mistress 
most was her gentleness and innocent gaiety of heart 
and manner, notwithstanding her baby. Madam De 
Lancey had several times tried in a kindly way to 
get at the young woman’s story, but without suc- 
cess; as, upon every approach to the subject of her 
former life, Denise had shut up like an oyster, and 
was as silent. Little Pierre gave no trouble, but was 
such a good, happy child that Madam De Lancey’s 
motherly heart — she became, herself, the mother of 
twelve children — reached out to the little one in a 
feeling which included both love and pity. Little 
James seemed to think that, since he had virtually 
saved the baby’s life, he had a particular claim upon 
it, and so spent hours in playing with it. 

It was about four o’clock in the afternoon when the 
coach passed the mills and forded the Bronx River. 
Upon the eastern side stood a large, square mansion, 
near which stood, like a great sentinel, a single, mighty 
pine. The horses pulled the coach up the farther 
bank; and it was at once assailed by the four older 
children, who clambered in to welcome their mother. 
Mr. De Lancey’s welcome was postponed until he 
had dismounted from his horse, which was at once 


13 


DE LANCEY’S MILLS 

taken to the stables by a grinning stable-boy. From 
various vantage posts the servants watched the 
arrival of their mistress. Among these servants were 
very few black faces, for Mr. De Lancey had only four 
or five negroes. Most of the servants and mechanics 
whom he employed were indentured servants of many 
nationalities besides English ; and many of these, being 
efficient helpers, remained in his employ as free work- 
men after their term of bondage had expired. 

To Denise, the beautiful country, after her long and 
wearisome ocean voyage, seemed like a glimpse of 
paradise ; and she went about her duties with a happy 
heart, often singing in pure enjoyment of the life about 
her. The pure, country air, the peace and comfort of 
her life, the kindness of her mistress and the com- 
panionship of the children converted her into a gay, 
lovely and charming young woman. Her evidently 
superior education and the knack which every French 
woman has in regard to clothes made her so present- 
able that Madam De Lancey said that she would 
almost pass for a lady, and her mistress, in time, made 
a companion of her. Her beauty and grace were not 
lost upon the oldest son, Stephen, a young lad of six- 
teen, who was home on his vacation from Yale Col- 
lege; and upon one occasion he attempted to kiss her, 
but the young collegian was surprised at the rage into 
which the young woman flew, and never repeated the 
attempt, as Denise threatened to report the matter to 
his parents. 

Among her other duties, Denise had to take the 
younger children walking. One day, after she had 


14 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 

been at the Mills for three months, she was returning 
along the edge of the mill-pond on the west bank of 
the stream, when she saw a cart drawn by a yoke 
of oxen, standing by the grist-mill. A young man 
was unloading the heavy bags of grain and carrying 
them into the mill. He did this with such ease that 
he appeared to her to be like a young Hercules, and 
she stood a short distance away watching him. At 
last, she gave utterance to her thoughts of admiration 
and cried to the children : 

“ But he is magnificent, that young man. See with 
what ease he lifts and carries those heavy bags. He 
is a young giant.” 

What was her astonishment to see the young giant 
raise his face and look in her direction, with an evi- 
dent understanding of what she had just said in her 
own tongue. For a full minute they stood and looked 
into each other's eyes across the few yards that sepa- 
rated them, and each could see the blood gradually 
rising in the other's face and each could feel a strange 
sense of shyness at the gaze of the other. He slowly 
turned away with a sigh and resumed his work, while 
she gathered the children about her and crossed the 
footbridge with a strange sense of embarrassment 
and fluttering of the heart. The next morning she 
came by the mill again at the same hour. She watched 
him for several minutes before she permitted herself 
to be seen. She was pleased at the furtive way in 
which he looked about from time to time, and at the 
way in which he dawdled over his work as it neared 


DE LANCEY’S MILLS 


15 


the end. The sound of the children’s voices caused 
him to look up with eager expectancy; then she came 
into view and nodded to him. 

“ Good morning, m’sieur. It is beautiful weather.” 

“ Good morning, mam’selle. It is, as thou sayest, 
beautiful weather.” 

She was surprised at his using the word “ thou ; ” 
but by this time he had finished his work and put on 
his coat and hat, and she saw that he was one of those 
who had been pointed out to her as Quakers, of whom 
there were so many in the surrounding country. It 
did not seem possible to her that this young man, 
whose appearance and bearing were those of an ideal 
soldier, could belong to that society whose chief teach- 
ing is peace. While she was thinking of what she 
should say next, Stephen De Lancey came across the 
bridge and seeing the young man, cried : 

“ Ha ! good morning, William Husted. Is your 
harvest finished? Because, if it is, I’m coming over 
some day to have a try at the partridges.” 

“ It is finished, friend Stephen ; and if thou wilt 
come next week on third day, I shall be ready to go 
with thee.” 

“ All right, then, William. Next Wednesday I’ll be 
over. It will be my last opportunity, for I return to 
college the week after.” 

The young gentleman now saw Denise with his 
brothers and sisters, and touched his hat to her — for 
he had become very respectful since his rebuff some 
weeks before — and said : 


16 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


“ Have you had a pleasant walk this morning, 
Denise? It is delightful in the woods, but I should 
think a pack of children would be a nuisance.” 

“ No, m’sieur, they are very well behaved and I 
enjoy their company.” 

“ Then I wish I were one of them,” he said with 
a laugh. 

Her eyes had been bright and sparkling and her 
mouth had worn a smile, but at these words her face 
grew sober and a slight flush of annoyance mantled 
her face. She said rather curtly, “ Good morning, 
messieurs,” and started to cross the footbridge, but 
one of her small charges tripped and fell. Before she 
could reach the crying child, William Husted had 
picked Alice up and thrown her to his shoulder. 

“ There, little one,” he cried, “ see how big thou 
art. Thou art bigger than thy brother, or than I, or 
than — Mam’selle Denise.” 

The child’s crying was at once turned to shouts of 
glee as Husted paraded up and down with her for a 
moment or two; then he passed her over to Denise. 
Their hands touched in the transfer, and both sud- 
denly flushed. In order to cover her confusion, she 
at once began to examine the child and to brush off 
her soiled clothes. 

“ Thank you, M’sieur Husted,” she said, with a 
quick look Into his eyes; then, she and her charges 
were gone. Husted stood looking after her in a rev- 
ery until he heard his companion say : 


17 


DE LANCEY’S MILLS 

“ A very pretty and attractive girl that, William ; 
and, by George! I believe she is as good as she is 
pretty, notwithstanding her baby.” 

Her baby ! ’ ” repeated William in surprise. “ Is 
she married, or — a widow?” He could not help a 
little anxiety showing in his voice. 

“ Neither, I judge. She’s a servant my father 
bought some months ago, and she has a baby about a 
year old. My brother James says he’s the finest little 
chap in the world.” 

Husted again fell into deep thought; and his com- 
panion, noticing that he was not in further humor for 
conversation, called “ Next Wednesday, William,” and 
went on his way. The young Quaker mounted his 
cart and drove homewards. 

“ Neither a wife nor a widow,” he said to himself. 
“ Yet she has a baby. She is purity and truth and 
innocence itself — ’tis a lie,” he cried aloud angrily; 
“ they do not know, they only surmise. . . . Yet, 

if she has a baby with her, whose is it ? ” 

And so the young fellow drove homeward, his 
thoughts bent on the solution of this riddle. The next 
morning he was again on the lookout for the young 
nurse, but this time he was open in his way, as became 
a Friend. 

“ Good morning, mam’selle,” he cried at sight of 
her, his pleasure showing in his voice and smile. “ I 
have been looking for thee, but I did not know whether 
thou wouldst come or no.” 


18 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


At his evident pleasure, she felt a little thrill at her 
heart which showed in the flush which rose to her 
face and in the sparkle in her eyes. 

“ That is very kind of you, m’sieur. I come this 
way every morning while the weather is so fine. You 
have a great harvest, m’sieur ? ” 

“ Yes. We have a good harvest this year, and Twill 
take many trips to carry it to the mills, both to this 
mill and to that of Lewis Morris.” 

“ It must be great indeed, m’sieur, if one mill can- 
not grind it all.” 

“ O ! it is not that,” he returned with a laugh ; “ but 
my father is a tenant of Lewis Morris for one part of 
his farm, and that part of the harvest must go, of 
course, to the manor-lord’s mill. But he also owns 
a large farm in the Richardson and Jesup tract, and 
the produce of that comes to this mill, as it is nearer.” 

“Oil did not know. But is not this mill nearer 
for both farms? I should think you would bring it 
all here.” 

“ Yes, but that would not be right; for that would 
deprive Friend Morris of his just tolls and dues. It 
is much farther to his mill near the manor-house of 
Morrisania.” 

This matter of tenancy and mills was plainly per- 
plexing to her, so she changed the subject. 

“ How is it, m’sieur, that you know my language so 
well? You speak it like a Frenchman.” 

“ My mother is French, mam’selle. She is from 
New Rochelle, where the Huguenots settled; and I, 


DE LANCEY’S MILLS 


19 


myself, have been to school there, with M’sieur de bon 
Repos, a descendant of the first minister.” Then he 
was thoughtful for a moment, and asked, “You are 
French, mam’selle? Are you a papist?” 

“ Yes, and no,” she answered, smiling at his per- 
plexed look. “ My father is a Catholic to the world, 
but in private he is a Protestant ; and we children were 
brought up the same way.” 

“ I do not understand, mam’selle.” 

“ The laws in France are very difficult for the 
Protestants; so they make a pretence of attending 
the church once or twice a year; but they have their 
own ministers who preach to them in secret.” 

“ But that is duplicity,” he cried sternly. “ Better 
to suffer for one’s belief than to surrender it at the 
behest of kings and governments, who have no right 
to interfere with man’s conscience in its relation to 
God.” 

She seemed surprised to hear him express this opin- 
ion of man’s duty to accept martyrdom rather than 
surrender his religious belief ; but she smiled upon him 
brightly as she replied : 

“ It is not for us to judge our parents. Remember 
that we are told to honor them, that our days may be 
long. Besides, m’sieur, do you not pay tithes to the 
Established Church in this province and especially for 
the church at Westchester?” 

“ Yes,” he answered with a clearer face; “ I see that 
thy argument is just, and that in a way we of the 
Society of Friends do what I have just condemned in 


20 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


thee and thy father. But we have our meeting-house at 
Westchester and attend it openly. In fact, our meet- 
ing-house is older and longer established in West- 
chester than the Church of England.” 

“ But your laws permit you to do so, m’sieur ; while 
in France it is different. When I was in the city, 
before I came here, I, myself, attended the French 
church; but since I have been in the country, I have 
attended the church at Westchester, as my master 
desires his servants to do.” 

This reminded him that she was not her own mis- 
tress, but the property of another. His face lost its 
sternness, and he said gently : 

“ Thou art of better quality than those who are gen- 
erally bound to service. How is it that thou didst 
become indentured ? ” 

The children had been playing about while this con- 
versation was in progress; but for several minutes 
little Alice had been pulling at her dress to attract her 
attention. Her face flushed at his last remark and 
her eyes dropped. Now she took advantage of the 
little maid’s interruption and said : 

“ Good morning, m’sieur ; ” but the glance she gave 
him remained in his memory to carry home. It was 
so trustful and pleading that he had no difficulty in 
reading its meaning. It said to him, “ Please do not 
ask me anything about my former life. Accept me as 
I am if you wish to be my friend.” And as he rode 
homeward, and thought over her last look, he said 
to himself, “ I will.” 


DE LANCEY’S MILLS 


21 


They did not meet again for several days, and then 
there was a certain eagerness in both, and it was like 
the meeting of old friends. At this interview she 
made reference to little Pierre, but true to his self- 
resolve, he displayed no curiosity. His forbearance 
pleased her, for she came up when it was time for 
her to go and took him by the hand as she said good- 
bye. Upon this occasion, he said it was his last trip 
to the mill. 

“ I am sorry,” he said, as he looked into her eyes ; 
and hers dropped as she said softly: 

“ So am I, for I shall miss seeing my friend.” 

She saw him again on the following Sundays, 
when she went to the church at Westchester and he 
to the Friends’ meeting-house; and on one of these 
days he walked home with her, leading his horse by 
the bridle. 

In November, the family, with the exception of the 
older children who were sent away to school or col- 
lege, returned to the city. During the months that 
followed, Denise became a great favorite with many 
of the younger storekeepers, and several took the 
trouble to inquire of Mr. De Lancey when her term 
would be up, or whether he would transfer her serv- 
ices for proper considerations. “Why?” he would 
ask, and they told him they wished to marry her. In 
some cases, when he told them about little Pierre, they 
went away with regret ; in others, the young men per- 
sisted in their offers; but in no case was there the 
slightest offer that could have been construed into 


22 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


insult. Mr. De Lancey would then ask if they had 
asked the young woman to marry them, and upon 
their answering in the negative, he would say: 

“ Denise is a good girl. My wife and children, 
and I, myself, like her. We should be sorry to part 
with her, but if any man wins her love we shall not 
stand in her light.” 

There was something about her that made her a 
favorite with all: her superiors, her fellow-servants, 
and others with whom she came in contact. The air 
of chastened sadness which she wore, the clear look 
of girlish innocence in her dark eyes, the sweetness of 
her smile, the charm of her soft-spoken, broken Eng- 
lish, for she was acquiring the language which she 
heard spoken about her — all these made up her attrac- 
tions. 

In April of the following year the family returned 
to De Lancey’s Mills, and one evening shortly 
after their arrival Denise went for a walk along the 
old familiar paths in search of early flowers. She 
was alone, the children having been put to bed. She 
was on her return in the gloaming when she heard 
a footstep behind her. She looked back and saw 
William Husted. He hurried forward to meet her, 
for she had turned when she recognized him. They 
met face to face, and she could see the strange work- 
ings of emotion in his face. At last he reached out 
his hands and cried, “ Denise ! ” 

“ What do you wish, my friend ? ” she asked, almost 
as agitated as he. 


DE LANCEY’S MILLS 


23 


“ Thee, Denise. I love thee, and I want thee for 
my wife.” 

“ There is — Pierre,” she faltered. “ You do not 
know my life — and I cannot tell you.” 

“ I do not care to know. I want thee. All this 
winter I have dreamed of thee, and I found out I 
loyed thee. I cannot live without thee, Denise. As 
for Pierre — I know thee — and I know there is no sin. 
He shall be to me as my own.” 

“ Do you mean it, William?” It was a whisper, 
and she came closer to him so that she could read 
his eyes in the disappearing light. He looked into 
hers and read their message; for he reached out his 
arms once more and cried : 

“ Denise, come to me. Thou lovest me. I can see 
it in thine eyes.” 

“ I do love thee, William ; for thou art a good 
man,” she said without fear; and in an instant, she 
was in his arms. 

* * * * * * 

When, the next day, William went to Mr. De 

Lancey, the master asked him as he had done the 
others, “ Have you asked her ? ” 

“ Yes, your honor ; and she has consented. May I 
buy her services from thee? She says she loves me 
and will marry me.” 

There was a look of happiness about the young fel- 
low that stirred Mr. De Lancey’s heart, but he felt it 
was necessary to do his duty, and so he said ; 


24 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


“ There is Pierre. Do your parents know of your 
intentions ? ” 

“ Yes, your honor,” he replied with Quakerish 
directness ; “ I have told them all about her, and they 
see that my heart is set on the matter — and they 
approve.” 

“ I will send for Denise and hear what she has to 
say.” 

He rang a bell and sent for the young woman, and 
while she was coming the two sat in silence, the mas- 
ter studying the young man’s face. When Denise 
entered the room and saw her lover, she blushed to the 
roots of her hair, and looked from one to the other 
as if to find out why she had been sent for. 

“ Denise,” said Mr. De Lancey gently, “ William 
Husted has asked me for your hand and says he has 
your consent. If so, I will release you from your 
indenture; and instead of asking or demanding any 
remuneration for the unexpired term of your service, 
will give you your freedom as a wedding present.” 

“ No, your honor; that cannot be. ’Twould be 
unjust to thee and to thy family not to return to thee 
thine outlay.” 

“ Well, William, we’ll let that pass for the moment. 
Denise, what do you say ? ” 

“ Oh ! sir,” she cried in distress, as she looked from 
one to the other, “ ’tis as William says. I love him 
and will marry him — but not now. I have thought 
this matter over, and I will serve my term with you. 
If he then is of the same mind, I will marry him. He 


DE LANCEY’S MILLS 25 

does not know me well enough, sir; and — there is 
Pierre.” 

Mr. De Lancey could form some idea of what was 
passing in the young girl’s mind; but his knowledge 
of the young man before him and his study of the 
young Quaker during the time they were waiting for 
her coming had given him an insight into his char- 
acter greater than that possessed by the girl who loved 
him. He therefore tried to persuade her that if she 
feared William would ever regret his marrying her, 
or that Pierre, once accepted, would prove a source of 
future trouble, her fears were groundless. William’s 
strength and steadfastness had impressed Mr. De 
Lancey ; but though the young man himself added his 
persuasions to those of the master, Denise refused to 
recede from her position. 

“ I will serve my term,” she cried to all their/ 
attempts to have her change her mind ; “ if at the end 
of that time he still wishes me to be his wife, I will 
be his wife.” 

At last, Mr. De Lancey gave up the contest and said, 
“ I am sorry for you, William ; but I cannot help being 
thankful for the sake of Madam and the children ; for 
Denise is very capable, and we should be sorry to 
lose her.” 

Denise gave him a grateful glance ; and then he 
shook hands with the young man, who turned to her 
as he took his departure and cried : 

“ Even as Jacob served and waited seven years for 
Rachel, so will I wait four years for thee, Denise.” 


CHAPTER III 


PIERRES CHILDHOOD 

During the five years that Denise Chantier served 
with the De Lanceys little Pierre grew from a bright 
and pleasant baby into a strong, sturdy boy. There 
was something about the youngster that attracted the 
attention and liking of those with whom he came in 
contact. In addition to his good looks, there was an 
expression of candor and honesty in his dark, merry 
eyes, and an air of unmistakable gentility in his man- 
ner that often made the numerous visitors at the great 
house ask about him. His mother dressed him in a 
dainty manner, which was in keeping with his position 
in life, but which, at the same time, gave him the bear- 
ing and appearance of the little gentleman; so much 
so that when on Sundays he accompanied the rest of 
the children to church at Westchester, it was hard to 
distinguish him from the others, except by his some- 
what plainer dress. And what great occasions those 
Sunday trips were. The coach was drawn up in front 
of the mansion, where Etienne, the driver, sat in sol- 
emn and mighty state while he waited the coming 
of his passengers. Around were gathered the children 
26 


PIERRE’S CHILDHOOD 


27 


of the estate, gazing in admiring awe at the great coach 
and its driver. The passengers entered, and then 
Etienne would gather up his reins, give the signal to 
his horses, and away would go the carriage, lumber- 
ing and jolting over the uneven road, its occupants 
riding in style, if not in comfort. Others of the 
family or its guests would follow on horseback, and 
some of the men-servants, with the maids mounted 
behind them on pillions, would bring up the rear of 
the procession at a respectful distance. The children 
usually walked the two miles to the church, forming a 
merry group; but on the return, the smaller ones 
would be taken up by some of those riding on horse- 
back, and thus be carried to their home. As the coach 
made its way along the road, it would meet the coaches 
of other gentlemen of the neighborhood, and the stream 
of farmers and their families on their way to the small, 
square unadorned edifice which did service as the 
church. 

There were cordial and cheery greetings as the 
neighbors met each other; but if, perchance, the De 
Lanceys met the coach of the Morrises from Morris- 
ania, there was no interchange of civilities except in 
the most frigid style; for the enmity of the great 
Lieutenant-Governor De Lancey and Judge Morris had 
already descended for almost a generation. The occa- 
sion was like a social reunion, for the gentlemen would 
gather outside the church and discuss the weather, the 
crops or political and social affairs, exchanging pleas- 
ant greetings with their friends and taking copious 


28 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


pinches of snuff. Across the way was the town green 
with its stocks, pillory and whipping-post; and only a 
few feet from the church itself were the courthouse 
and jail, from whose windows the prisoners would 
gaze at the brilliant scene of bright silks and satins of 
gentlemen, as well as of ladies; in the background, at 
a respectful distance, would be the plainer homespun 
of the farmers and yeomanry. Then the bell given 
to the church by the first Lewis Morris would ring, 
and the groups would break up and file solemnly and 
reverently into the church, to listen to the stately serv- 
ice of the Church of England as performed by the 
venerable rector, Doctor Standard. 

In the first year of her visit to De Lancey’s Mills, 
Denise had been called upon by the Rector and inquir- 
ies made in regard to her child. As a result, he had 
been baptized by the Rector, and had thus become a 
member of the church ; later, he was taken in hand by 
Mr. Basil Bartow, a son of the first rector of the par- 
ish, and the schoolmaster maintained by the Society 
for the Propagation of the Faith in Foreign Parts, and 
had been grounded in the church catechism as well as 
in the three “ R’s.” 

One of the boy’s earliest recollections was of one 
day when he was about five years old. He was play- 
ing in the roadway, when the sound of a horse’s steps 
made him look up. The rider was a stranger to him. 
He was dressed in plain clothes, and he carried his 
lu gg a ge ^ a pair of saddle-bags. His face was pleas- 
ant and he had a pair of the keenest eyes the boy 


PIERRE’S CHILDHOOD 


29 


had ever seen — they seemed to the boy to look right 
through him. He did not seem to the boy to be a 
gentleman, yet there was something about his looks 
that showed he was of a different rank from the 
farmers and yeomanry. The stranger glanced about 
furtively for a moment, as he stopped his horse, then 
he spoke to the boy in a low tone : 

“ Good morning, my lad. What is your name ? ” 
“ Pierre Chantier, sir.” 

“ Ah! you are French? ” he said in a tone of slight 
surprise. “ Where is your father? ” 

“ He is dead, sir ; but my mother is alive. She is 
nurse for Madam De Lancey.” 

“ So ! ” said the horseman ; then he said guardedly, 
“ She is a Catholic, I presume.” 

“ O ! no, sir ; she is a Protestant. We go to the 
church at Westchester. I was baptized there, and I 
am now learning my cathechism,” he added proudly. 

“ So !” said the stranger again. After a moment of 
thought, he asked, “ Do you know Patrick McCabe? ” 
“ Yes, sir; he is one of the mill-hands. I know him 
quite well ; he is a great friend of mine.” 

“Will you carry a message to him for me? You 
must not let any one else know. Can you do that ? ” 
“ Yes, sir. I will not tell anybody if you do not 
want me to.” 

The stranger looked into the boy’s honest face and 
then said with a winning smile, which the boy 
answered with a smile on his own. 

“ Very well, Pierre. Say to him, Mr. Farmer has 


30 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


something he zvants to shozv him , and will he at the 
same place as before. Can you remember that?” 

“ Yes, sir. I will go and tell him now before I 
forget.” 

“ That’s a good boy.” He reached into the pocket 
of his vest, leaned over to the boy and placed some- 
thing in his hand ; then he cried, “ Good morning, my 
lad ; I thank you for your trouble,” touched his horse 
lightly and was gone. 

The boy watched him till he was out of sight at a 
near turn of the road, then he glanced at what the 
stranger had given him and saw that it was a silver 
coin. He ran to the mill as fast as his little legs 
would carry him, crossing the new bridge which Mr. 
De Lancey had recently erected, and soon found his 
friend. 

“ Patrick,” he said quietly, as soon as he had recov- 
ered his breath, “ I have a message for you that no one 
else must hear.” 

“ Shure thin ! it must be a grate saycret,” said the 
Irishman; and lending himself to what he thought 
was the lad’s play, walked with him outside. “ Now, 
thin, phat’s th’ saycret ? ” 

“ I met a man on horseback on the road and he 
gave me a message for you. He said his name was 
Mr. Farmer, and that he had something to show you 
and that he would be at the same place as before. 
And see, Patrick; he gave me a silver coin for carry- 
ing the message.” 

McCabe’s face suddenly changed from its look of 


PIERRE’S CHILDHOOD 


&i 


easy good-nature and became very serious as the 
message was delivered to him. Now, he looked 
stealthily about him, and whispered to the boy: 

“ Shure ! thin, Peer, it is indade a grate saycret, an’ 
ye mustn’t tell annybody. ’Tis a noo game we’re 
playin’, an’ ’tis played in this way: Mr. Farmer tells 
ye, an’ ye tell me, an’ I tell sumbody else, an’ he tells 
sumbody, an’ so it goes on, till ye mate Mr. Farmer 
again, an’ — an’ thin th’ game’s up.” 

“ That’s a funny sort of game, Patrick. Suppose 
I don’t meet Mr. Farmer again? ” 

“ Thin, there’s no game.” 

The Irishman looked at the perplexed countenance 
of the boy with a leer of low cunning; but he was 
surprised when the boy, after a pause, during which 
he was studying the matter out, said in a tone of 
regret, as he held out his hand : 

“ Then, Patrick, it must be part of the game to give 
the coin, too. Here it is.” 

“ No, no, me lad,” said Pat quickly, his native 
honesty overcoming his cupidity; “ye see ye git th’ 
coin fer startin’ th’ game.” 

The lad’s face brightened, and he ran back with 
the coin to his mother. She was surprised, but the 
boy’s explanation that he had received it for carry- 
ing a message was satisfactory to her. 

It was not till the next fall that he saw Mr. Farmer 
again. It was on Hallowe’en, and the boys of the 
town agreed to hold their sports on the green 
near the church. Pierre, though younger than the 


32 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


others, was taken by James De Lancey, who promised 
Denise to take the best of care of him and return 
him safely. 

A year before had occurred the dispersion of 
the Acadians, and these unfortunates had been dis- 
tributed among the different colonies along the coast. 
Everywhere they were badly treated ; and as “ The 
Great French War ” was now in progress, the 
inhabitants looked upon them with fear, and locked 
them up in jail wherever they appeared. There were 
now several of these “ French Neutrals,” as the col- 
onists called them, in the Westchester jail. 

On Hallowe'en the boys had great sport with their 
tricks and games, making the neighborhood of the 
town-green riotous with their noise. At last, one of 
them proposed that they should scare the French Neu- 
trals with their jack o’ lanterns, a proposal that was 
greeted with approval. The window of the jail was 
too high for any of them to look in, so Pierre, being 
the smallest, was hoisted up on the shoulders of the 
others to the dimly lighted window. Their proceed- 
ings were attended with the greatest silence so as to 
make the surprise complete for the occupants of the 
jail. As Pierre’s face came abreast of the window, he 
peered into the dimly lighted room, the rays of the 
single candle leaving the greater part in obscurity. 
Upon the floor kneefed the nine prisoners that the 
room contained, their attitude one of great devotion. 
Above them stood a man whose face the candle only 
partially lighted, but as Pierre’s eyes became accus- 


PIERRE’S CHILDHOOD 


33 


tomed to the gloom of the interior he recognized the 
face of Mr. Farmer, the stranger for whom he had 
carried the message. He was speaking in a low tone 
in a language that Pierre did not know, then he 
stretched out his arms as Pierre had seen Mr. Standard 
do, and uttered some words very solemnly. The 
kneeling group bent their heads still more devoutly 
and crossed themselves, and Mr. Farmer did likewise; 
then the prisoners rose to their feet and Mr. Farmer 
took his departure. As he did so, the men crowded 
about him and kissed his hand. 

The whole proceeding had so aroused Pierre’s inter- 
est that he had forgotten what he had to do, until 
some one pulled his foot and said in a whisper. 

“ Peer, are they there? Can you see ’em? Here’s 
the lantern. When you get it opposite the window 
we’ll all yell like murder.” 

He took the lantern that was passed to him and 
raised it to the window sill ; then the crowd let out a 
series of yells that almost raised the dead in the neigh- 
boring churchyard. The prisoners turned, and upon 
sight of the grinning pumpkin with its gleaming fea- 
tures, fell upon their knees in abject fear and began 
to cross themselves and to howl with about equal 
activity. The young imps outside were still yelling 
and laughing when one of them saw a figure come 
from the jail door. 

“ The constable ! the constable ! ” he yelled, and the 
crowd immediately took to their heels. Those who 
were supporting Pierre forgot their burden in their 


34 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


terror and dropped him to the ground, where he fell 
with a thud. The jack o’ lantern came tumbling down 
beside him, but the candle did not go out, and it shed 
a dim light around him; but though frightened and 
ready to cry, he looked up at the approaching figure. 

“Mr. Farmer, what were you doing in there? It 
was like church,” he cried in his boyish treble. 

The man started and looked at the recumbent figure 
of the small lad; then, his mind being used to act 
promptly, he said, as he helped Pierre to his feet: 

“ Have you hurt yourself, my boy? How did you 
know my name ? ” 

“ No, sir, I’m not hurt. Pm Pierre Chantier who 
carried a message for you to Patrick McCabe and 
began the game.” 

“ Yes, I remember you now. . . . What game? 
I do not understand.” 

The boy explained, and the man laughed heartily. 

“ I had forgotten the game, my son. So you saw 
in the window? Well, that’s part of the game, too; 
and now we’ll start it over again. Here is another 
coin. You must keep what you have seen to yourself 
and never tell anybody; for if you do, it might mean 
death — my death. And you wouldn’t like to be the 
cause of that, would you, Pierre ? ” 

The boy was touched by the kindness of the tone, 
by the fear of causing injury to any one ; and though 
he had not the slightest understanding of the matter, 
he promised Mr. Farmer not to mention what he had 
seen to anybody, not even his mother or Patrick Me- 


PIERRE’S CHILDHOOD 35 

Cabe. Then the man suddenly leaned over and kissed 
him. 

God bless you, little man ; run away to your com- 
panions, and forget that you have seen me.” 

The lad scampered off ; but it was many a day before 
he saw Mr. Farmer again, or learned the true inward- 
ness of the “ game,” a game in which the stake was 
a human life. It was late when he rejoined his com- 
panions, so the company broke up. How fearful was 
that homeward journey in the dark. Behind every 
bush or tree lurked a witch, ready to spring out upon 
them, or a goblin, ready to pick them up and fly 
away with them. Yet it was a delicious fear, more 
delicious in the retrospect, perhaps, than in the reality ; 
and when the lad reached his home and bed and tucked 
the clothes above his head, he felt that, notwithstand- 
ing all its terrors, he would not have missed the events 
of the evening for a great deal. And there was a 
feeling, too, of his own importance; for had not Mr. 
Farmer impressed upon him the fact that a man’s life 
hung upon his discretion ; and this was appalling to a 
lad of six. 

During all these years, William Husted remained 
true to his resolve and waited patiently for Denise. 
As the two knew each other better as time' passed, the 
love which had sprung up so suddenly, grew stronger 
and stronger and burned with a steadier flame. To 
the attraction of sex was now added the equal attrac- 
tion of mutual understanding and appreciation of each 
other’s qualities : on the one side, a tender, loving and 


36 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


helpful nature; on the other, a strong, fearless and 
rugged honesty and kindness. And so, when her time 
of service expired, Denise Chantier became the wife 
of William Husted and was welcomed by that young 
man’s parents and family. True to his promise in 
regard to Pierre, Husted went before the mayor of 
the borough town of Westchester and legally adopted 
Pierre as his own. William was the second son in 
a family of six children; and upon his marriage, he 
rented a farm of his own within the town of West- 
chester, on what is known as Castle Hill Neck. 

The De Lanceys were sorry to lose their servant, 
and Denise, notwithstanding the happiness to which 
she was going, was sorry to leave the family from 
whom she had received such kind treatment. William 
was a good farmer and affairs prospered with him 
and with the family of children that blessed his union 
with the woman he loved. 


CHAPTER IV] 


CONTRABAND TRADE) 

Six years more passed away, and Pierre was now 
twelve years of age. He had helped his father in his 
farm work and was, in consequence, a strong and 
robust lad. Rector Standard had died at an advanced 
age and been succeeded by the Reverend John Milner 
in the church at Westchester. Pierre had attended 
the school of Mr. Bartow until his death in 1762 and 
had shown himself so bright and intelligent a pupil 
that the schoolmaster had taken extra pains with him, 
and he was more advanced than most boys of his age 
and standing. 

The neighbors of the Husteds on the farther end of 
the neck were named Underhill, and Pierre had often, 
when awake at night, heard the passage of carts in 
front of his own house. He had arisen in curiosity 
upon several occasions, and had noticed these carts 
were heavily laden when coming from the end of the 
neck and that upon their return, they were empty. 
He asked his father the meaning of this, but Friend 
Husted had answered him quietly but firmly that his 
neighbor’s business was none of his, and that it was 
sometimes best not to see and hear things that were 
better unseen and unheard. The lad pondered over 
37 


38 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


this; but though he made no more inquiries he did 
not lose his curiosity. Ned Underhill was one of 
Pierre’s intimates. The old house in which he lived 
had been erected by the Cromwells, descendants of the 
brother of the great Lord Protector. Pierre had 
hinted several times to his friend for an explanation 
of these midnight cartages, but Ned was non-com- 
mittal. At last, one afternoon, when Pierre was visit- 
ing his friend, there came up such a heavy storm as 
to render it impossible for Pierre to return to his own 
home that evening, and as a result he was obliged to 
stay during the night at the Underhill house. 

The house is situated a few yards from a small 
creek which here winds through the meadows which 
distinguish the section. It is at the extreme end of 
the neck, opposite Hunt’s Point, and is in a very 
retired position. Long Island Sound is less than a 
quarter of a mile distant. 

At about ten o’clock the storm ceased. The sud- 
den quiet waked Pierre from his sleep, and he lay for 
a few minutes listening to the dripping of the rain 
from the roof. He was just falling again into sleep 
when he heard three knocks upon the door below. 
Instantly he was wide awake, though his companion 
still lay fast asleep. In another minute he heard the 
sound of some one moving in the next room, a window 
was raised, and he could hear a cautious exchange of 
question and answer; then he heard the heavy steps 
of a man descend the stairs and the door open. Pie 
was still wondering who could be the visitor at this 


CONTRABAND TRADE 


39 


hour of the night, when the heavy steps ascended the 
stairs; there was a gleam of light in his own room, 
and by the candle which he carried Pierre was able 
to recognize the partially dressed form of his friend’s 
father. Ned waked at once and sprung from the bed. 

“ Has Captain Roscoe come, father ? ” he asked, as 
he began to dress himself rapidly. 

“ Yes,” said his father shortly. He was gazing in 
dismay at Pierre who was sitting up in bed and whose 
eyes showed the wonder which possessed him. “ Drat 
it! I had forgotten Peer,” muttered Underhill. The 
two remained looking at each other for fully a minute ; 
then Underhill said, “ Peer, get up and dress yourself. 
You’re a lad o’ good sense, and can hold your tongue, 
so there’s nothin’ to do except trust ye.” 

Pierre dressed rapidly, and joined his friend Ned. 
The others of the household were now astir, and he 
could hear them moving about, though all was now 
in darkness in the house. Pierre was surprised at the 
next movement of his friend. Ned took from a closet 
a number of heavy cloths which he began to hang in 
front of the windows. The purpose was soon appar- 
ent; for as soon as they were hung, the candles were 
lighted, lanterns were produced, and though the house 
was now illuminated, no gleam showed outside to 
attract the attention of any watcher or chance observer. 
When Pierre descended to the kitchen he found with 
Mr. Underhill three men dressed in seamen’s garb, 
discussing pannikins of rum and blowing smoke from 
their pipes. One of them was a bold-looking fellow 


40 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


of about thirty-five, who was evidently the Captain 
Roscoe of whom Ned had spoken. He was talking as 
Pierre entered. 

“ It was a beastly night on the Sound, Mr. Under- 
hill. I have never seen such a downpour of rain 
except in the tropics. We had great difficulty in find- 
ing the mouth of the creek, but Bussing here, who was 
born and brought up in Westchester, seems to know 
every foot of the Sound’s bottom as well as every foot 
of the land. He piloted us to the anchorage, and 
there the sloop lies secure and snug.” 

Pierre was surprised at the man’s speech and at the 
voice and manner, which were those of a gentleman. 
The Captain had glanced at the lad as he entered, and 
now he said : 

“ I see you have a new recruit, Underhill. What’s 
your name, my lad ? ” 

“ Pierre Husted, sir.” 

Roscoe examined him keenly and seemed satisfied 
with his scrutiny. He rose with a sigh and stretched 
himself. “Well! this is comfortable, but business is 
business. Come, let’s to work, if we want to get 
through by daylight.” 

The door was cautiously opened, and they all fol- 
lowed him into the outer air. The rain had ceased 
and the wind subsided, but overhead great clouds still 
covered the sky, making the night exceedingly dark. 
The Captain was apparently familiar with the ground, 
for he led the way without hesitation to the bank of 
the creek, where a boat lay at the landing-place, 


CONTRABAND TRADE 


41 


“ Is thet ye, Cap’n ? ” called a voice, and as soon as 
Pierre’s eyes became accustomed to the darkness he 
saw that there was a man in the boat, similarly dressed 
to his companions. The work of unloading the boat 
began at once, and soon they were going back to the 
house with kegs, cases and bundles. These were taken 
into the house and carried up into the owner’s room. 
What was Pierre’s surprise to see Underhill remove 
several boards from the floor, close to the great chim- 
ney that passed through the middle of the house, and 
expose a large, gaping hole. A lantern was lowered 
into the opening, and the hired man, John, descended 
by means of a rude ladder ; the boxes and bundles were 
lowered to him. He called for some one to help him, 
and Pierre volunteered. When he reached the bottom 
he found himself in a good-sized room, one side of 
which was the solid rock upon which the house was 
built, the other sides being of masonry. It was dry, 
and he found out later that ventilation was obtained 
by a small passage leading to the back of the great 
chimney of the kitchen. It was an ideal place for the 
purpose, and it might even be used as a hiding-place 
for persons ; for, afterward, Pierre looked for signs of 
it from both inside the house and out; but it was so 
cunningly constructed that no one would suspect that 
it existed. 

When they returned to the landing-place, they found 
that the boat had departed with two of the sailors, and 
that the Captain only was on shore with the remainder 
of the boat’s cargo. Three more trips were made 


42 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


before the sloop was unloaded. On the last trip, a 
man heavily cloaked and with a soft hat pulled down 
over his face stepped from the boat, and after a few 
words with Captain Roscoe, strode off into the dark- 
ness. The two stood not far from Pierre when these 
words were spoken, and he thought he recognized the 
voice of the stranger as he said : 

“ Good night, Captain Roscoe. I thank you for 
your passage. I may require your assistance in the 
future again as in the past.” 

“ Good night, Mr. Fa ” 

“ Sshh ! ” interrupted the passenger ; and Captain 
Roscoe lowered his voice so that Pierre heard no 
more. 

It was nearly daylight when the Captain and his 
men took their final glass of rum and sought their 
vessel. Pierre, tired and sleepy, returned to bed ; and 
it was late in the morning when he awoke. No sign 
of the sloop was visible on the waters of the Sound, 
and Pierre could almost have believed that he had 
dreamed the affair of the preceding night, but for the 
significant grin that his friend Ned gave him. Now 
that Pierre was acquainted with the secret of the 
Underhill house and knew that its inmates were 
engaged in the contraband trade, he was sometimes 
called upon to assist them in delivering the smuggled 
goods to the people of the neighborhood. The con- 
signees were not only the farmers, but the gentry of 
the vicinity, and Pierre drove his carts to Mr. Pell 
of Pelham Manor, Mr. Morris, of Morrisania, Mr. 


CONTRABAND TRADE 


43 


De Lancey, of West Farms, and even to Colonel Phil- 
ipse of the Yonkers. In fact all of these gentlemen 
were deeply interested in the contraband trade, and 
gained many a penny by backing the enterprises which 
robbed the King of his revenue. There was no danger 
of interference from the town authorities, so that there 
was little risk attached to the trade; but the romantic 
side of Pierre’s nature was engaged, and he became 
fascinated with this wandering about the country. Pie 
was well paid for his work; and he gained still other 
money by working on the sloops which Jim Bowne 
ran almost daily to New York, carrying the produce 
of the farmers and bringing back from the shops of the 
city the articles required by the inhabitants of West- 
chester. 

He was so intelligent and reliable that, as time 
passed, Underhill often sent him alone on journeys to 
nearby points. One night he was on his way to the 
neighborhood of Williams’ bridge to deliver some 
goods to a William Husted, a cousin of his father, and 
at ten o’clock had reached the stream which drained 
the Bear Swamp. As he forded it, he stopped to per- 
mit his horse to drink. In the almost dead silence 
about him he heard the steady sobbing of a woman’s 
voice. He stood up on the cart and looked about 
him, listening intently. He could now distinguish the 
deeper tones of a man’s voice, trying to comfort the 
crying woman. Then he caught the gleam of a lan- 
tern a short distance within the swamp. He tied his 
horse to a tree near the road, and went quickly and 


44 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


noiselessly in the direction of the light. He came 
upon a small group of persons gathered about what 
seemed a small coffin and an open grave. He heard 
the steady and solemn voice of one man talking in 
what he now knew was the Latin tongue, while the 
others of the group were crying, the woman sobbing in 
a dreadful way. At last, the service was completed, 
and the body of the dead child committed to the earth. 
The man who had stood by the woman again tried to 
comfort her. 

“ Shure, Mary, me darlin’, me own heart is ’most 
broke wid th’ loss of the little gurl ; but she’s now 
among th’ blessed angels in Hivin, for shure. ’Tis 
lucky we are to have th’ good praste to berry her and 
say over her th’ sarvice o’ th’ thrue church, insurin’ 
to her th’ jiys o’ paradise.” 

“ Yis, Mike, ’tis thrue phwat ye say, but she wuz 
me younges’, an’ me heart is broke. O ! wirra, wirra, 
wirra, an’ we c’d have no wake in this cursed land. 
An’ she me younges’.” 

“ Ye have th’ others, Mary, acushla; an’ fer that, 
ye kin have another, an’ thin she’ll be th’ younges’.” 

“ Go on wid ye, Mike Doran. Phwat wy to talk 
is that?” 

Here the man who had conducted the services inter- 
fered to comfort the now indignant woman; and as 
he now spoke in his natural voice, Pierre recognized 
it as that of Mr. Farmer. He went back to his cart 
and continued his trip, wondering who this Mr. 
Farmer could be. 


CONTRABAND TRADE 


45 


A few weeks later he saw a small crowd about the 
board on the town-hall where the notices were posted 
and drew near to read. Among the miscellaneous col- 
lection which usually adorns such a board — notices of 
vendues, of taxes, of lost articles, of articles to sell, or 
of those that have been found, of summons to jurymen, 
and what not — there now appeared a new one which 
had just been pasted up by the town clerk. It was sur- 
mounted by the royal arms and read as follows : 

“TWENTY POUNDS REWARD 

It having come to our -Knowledge that the Jesuit priest. 
Father Steinmeyer, has been preaching y e heretical, papistical 
& damnable doctrines of his Church under y e alias of Father 
Farmer in our Counties of New York, Kings & Westchester, 
to the imminent Danger of the spiritual Welfare of our liege 
Subjects & in Violation of y e Laws & Ordinances made & pro- 
vided in Regard to y e practitioners of y e Roman Catholic Re- 
ligion, both in England & in this, our Province of New York; 
Now, therefore, I offer the above Reward for the Arrest, dead 
or alive, of y e said Father Farmer or Steinmeyer. 

Done at our City & Fort of New York, y e 6th day of Oct r . 
in the Year of Our Lord God, 1764, & y e 4th year of y e Reign 
of our Sovereign Lord, George III., King, &c., &c., &c. 

Robt. Monckton, 

Governor & Admiral of y e Province of New York.” 

* * * * * * 

There seemed no prospect of the position of school- 
master being filled, and Denise was becoming alarmed 
at the evil ways into which her son was falling. At 
last, in the privacy of their room, she said to her 
husband, 


46 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 

“ William, I shall impart to you a secret that I have 
hitherto kept to myself.” 

“ I do not ask to share thy secrets, my dear, unless 
it will ease thy mind to tell me.” 

“ This concerns Pierre.” She paused as if not 
knowing how to go on with her story without telling 
more than she should. “ When I left Bordeaux for 
Hamburg, there was placed in my hands a number 
of jewels to pay my expenses. I have never used them, 
thinking that they belonged to the lad and were for 
his use when the time arrived. He — he — is a gentle- 
man’s son, and he should have the education of a 
gentleman.” 

She produced a stout, leather purse, from which she 
took a number of jewels in which were many precious 
stones. Husted was ignorant of the worth of jewels, 
both from his religion and from his position in life; 
but even to his uneducated eyes the sparkle of the 
flashing gems in their rich golden settings, gave some 
idea of their value. Pie examined them carefully, 
unmindful of their beauty. 

“ These appear to me to be of value,” he said. 
“ What wilt thou do with them ? ” 

“ I shall take them to Mr. De Lancey and ask him 
to dispose of some of them for me. With the pro- 
ceeds, we will send Pierre to some good school and 
to college.” 

“ ’Tis a good idea and well proveth thine honesty 
and thy sagacity.” 

The next morning, mounted on a pillion behind her 


CONTRABAND TRADE 


47 


husband, the leather purse well secured, she rode over 
to West Farms. Mr. De Lancey looked with amaze- 
ment at the dazzling display of jewels and exclaimed, 
with a touch of respect in his voice: 

“ I am something of a judge in such matters, and 
these are the finest jewels that I have ever seen in the 
Province. With these in your possession, why did 
you sell yourself to service? You could have bought 
a fine estate with the proceeds and have lived in style.” 

“ They do not belong to me, your honor ; they belong 
to Pierre ; and now I want to dispose of some of them 
in order to send him to school and college.” 

“ Are you not placing him beyond his position in 
life ? ” Mr. De Lancey asked with a touch of stiffness 
in his manner. “ Are you not placing him in a false 
position before the world — him, who is a yeoman’s 
son ? ” 

“ His real father is a gentleman, sir,” she answered 
simply; and Mr. De Lancey gave her a keen look and 
said, “ Ah ! that alters the case. I will take such of 
these as you choose to give me and have them ap- 
praised. There are several of them that I myself 
should like to buy for Madam De Lancey. I know 
several Jews who are experts in the matter of gems, 
and I will take these to the city and dispose of them 
for you.” 

Mr. De Lancey was as good as his word, and even 
he was astonished when his Hebrew friends placed a 
value of a thousand pounds upon the ring and the 
pair of earrings that he took for their inspection, con- 


48 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


taining diamonds and rubies of the most perfect luster 
and brilliancy. When he turned the proceeds over to 
Denise he could not refrain from treating her with 
more respect than he had ever shown before. 

“ Is it safe for you, madame, to keep these remain- 
ing jewels in your possession? Are you not afraid 
of robbery? ” 

“ I have kept them safe all these years/’ she an- 
swered, “ and no one knows of them except yourself 
and my husband. We can still keep the secret.” 

“ It shall be kept sacredly by me,” he answered. 
“ Not even my wife shall know where I bought these 
jewels for her.” 

So Pierre was reclaimed from his wandering life 
and his danger of evil ways,, and was sent to the 
school of Mr. de bon Repos at New Rochelle, where it 
was arranged that he was to remain for two years 
and prepare for King’s College. 


CHAPTER V, 


AT SCHOOIy 

Mr. d£ bon R^pos was a grandson of the first pas- 
tor of the French church at New Rochelle, and 
descended, in a left-handed way, from that gallant 
prince and man, Henry the Fourth of France. He 
was a man approaching middle life, and was a fine 
scholar and thorough gentleman. For many years he 
had conducted a private school at the old Huguenot 
town, and among his pupils had been, and were at the 
present, many boys of the most distinguished families 
of the county, many of whom afterward became 
famous in the history of the land. He had married 
later than was usual in colonial days, and his family 
consisted of but one child, Lucie, now a girl of eight. 
He had eight other pupils besides Pierre, and all lived 
with their instructor in the long, low, rambling stone 
house which showed the additions made by several 
generations of owners. 

With these boys Pierre was soon on the most 
friendly terms, for his life heretofore had given him 
experience, so that he soon became their leader, dis- 
placing a young fellow named William Bayard, a big, 
hulking lad, a year or more older than himself. The 
49 


50 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


fight which gave Pierre his supremacy became historic 
in the annals of the school and served to delight the 
pupils for a decade. Pierre was himself so badly pun- 
ished that he was confined to his bed for several days 
under the tender care of Madame de bon Repos, for 
whom he soon developed a love which was only sec- 
ond to that he felt for his mother. Little Lucie came 
and sat by his bedside quite often, and there grew up 
a great friendship between them. The little miss 
heard her father and mother speak of the boy's pluck 
and she had full descriptions of the fight from the 
other boys, so that, though Pierre was now battered 
and bruised and not at all attractive, she gave him the 
respect due to a hero. Young Bayard needed the 
attentions of a physician, and Doctor Coutant was 
called in and his parents sent for. His home was on 
Throg’s Neck, and thither he went for his recovery. 
When he returned ten days later, he was sulky and 
angry. He met Pierre, and flushing angrily at sight 
of him, cried : 

“ You damned bastard, your mother was a bond- 
woman. I’ll get even with you yet, if it takes years.” 

“ You dirty* cur, why don’t you take your licking like 
a man ? What has my mother got to do with it ? ” 
shouted Pierre in rage, as he made a rush at Bayard. 
The latter did not wait, but seeing the look in Pierre’s 
face, and remembering his recent experience, took to 
his heels to get beyond reach of Pierre’s fists. 

His physical supremacy being established, Pierre set 
himself the task of showing his mental ability. He 


AT SCHOOL 


51 


felt his position keenly. He passed as the son of a 
yeoman, an honest and worthy man, but still of infer- 
ior class to the parents of the other boys; his mother 
had been a bond-servant, and that was also a thorn 
in his side, though he was loyal enough not to blame 
her for her misfortune. He knew her as everybody 
else knew her — a sweet, joyous and capable woman, 
making her husband and children happy, and doing her 
duty so well and faithfully to them and to her neigh- 
bors, that all treated her with respect and affection. 
That there was anything mysterious or wrong about 
his birth he did not know, nor did he suspect. He 
thought that Bayard had thrown the name of “ bas- 
tard ” at him because it had been a particularly nasty 
one which occurred to the beaten boy at the moment 
he used it, and he had established himself in the good 
graces of his companions so firmly that, though they, 
too, like Bayard, probably heard something about him 
at their homes from those who knew the circumstances, 
not one of them ever made any reference to the doubt 
on his birth, even when carried away by boyish anger. 
After all, they were gentlemen’s sons; and they were 
proud to see that Pierre was the head of the school 
in his studies as well as in sports and games. Bayard 
had already been a year at the school, when Pierre 
entered, and he remained but a year longer, going 
then to King’s College. In time, the relations between 
the two boys improved, as Pierre was of a generous 
and forgiving disposition; but there never was that 
cordiality between them that there was between Pierre 


52 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


and the others. One other fight they had during this 
year, and that was caused by Bayard’s teasing Lucie 
so as to make her weep. She fled at once to Pierre 
and poured her tale into his ears, and he, full of 
indignation and fury, went after the aggressor. Bay- 
ard stood up to him, but only two or three blows had 
been exchanged before he turned and fled, whereupon 
Pierre laughed so heartily that his rage died out. 

How happy were those school days to Pierre. Long 
Island Sound was but a short distance away, and there 
the boys learned to swim and sail boats, and often they 
would return with strings of fish for Madam de bon 
Repos. The great Boston post-road passed through 
the village, and it was a pleasure to watch the stream 
of travelers passing in both directions; but the great 
events of the year were the county fairs that were 
held in Westchester town and in Rye. The inhabitants 
flocked to these from all sections of the county, and 
for several days preceding and following the fairs, 
the roads were crowded with droves of animals and 
wagons loaded with produce. Nor were there lack- 
ing other excitements in the groups of itinerant 
mountebanks and acrobats who took advantage of 
these annual fairs to earn an honest penny and who 
gave exhibitions of their skill in the villages through 
which they passed. Little Lucie would stand with her 
hand in Pierre’s and gaze in open-mouthed wonder 
and admiration at these exhibitions; and once, there 
was a wonderful and amusing monkey which was 
trained to collect money from the bystanders. As it 


AT SCHOOL 


53 


approached Lucie on its round, she shrank back in ter- 
ror, and finally, with a wild scream threw herself into 
Pierre’s arms, crying, “ Save me ! save me ! Pierre ! ” 

Pierre gathered her into his sturdy young arms and 
laughed at her and petted her until the little maid slid 
to the ground with blushing cheeks. Sometimes, the 
two would go down to the shore at Bonnefoy’s Neck 
and sit and watch the waters of the Sound and the 
vessels passing by with their loads of produce for the 
city, or returning empty from their voyage. Then 
they would talk about the future; and upon one occa- 
sion, with that childish innocence which knows not 
sex, she said : 

“ And when we grow up, Pierre, I’m going to be 
your wife.” 

Pierre laughed and looked rather contemptuously 
at the girl as he replied: 

“ Ugh ! when I get through college and grow up, 
I’m going to be a great merchant and go to different 
parts of the world, and somewhere I’m going to meet 
a princess who’s going to be my wife. You’re too little 
and don’t know enough.” 

In an instant a pang of jealous rage shot through 
her, she sprang to her feet and faced him with flash- 
ing eyes. 

“ I don’t like you one little bit, Pierre Husted, and 
I — I — just hate your old princess.” 

Pierre looked up in wonder at this gentle child that 
had so suddenly been transformed into a little fury. 
He would have laughed at her and teased her with 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


54 

some boyish remark; but before he could do so, she 
had flung at him a glance of unutterable scorn and 
turned and fled from the scene. He gazed after her 
retreating figure, and called : 

“ Come back, Lucie ; I was only fooling/’ 

But the fleeing child kept on, and Pierre went back 
to town alone, turning over in his mind this first 
exhibition he had had of the ways of womankind. In 
the days that followed, his wonder increased, for the 
little maid never gave a sign that she was aware of 
his existence, even when he made advances to re-estab- 
lish himself in her good graces. After a week, he 
humbled himself and lay in wait to find her alone; 
and then he said to the stern face that confronted him : 

“ Lucie, I’m very sorry for what I said the other 
day; and Lucie, though I’ve made up my mind to 
marry the princess, I’ll have you for my second wife — 
after the princess dies.” 

Her face remained troubled for a minute, then she 
reached out her hand and said with a smile : 

“ All right, Pierre, I like you once more ; but I hate 
your princess.” 

Thus was peace made between them, and their old 
comradeship restored; but his remark about her not 
knowing enough had sunk deeper than he suspected. 
Lucie was, like most children who have no brothers or 
sisters, somewhat spoiled, and had been permitted to 
have her own way, especially by her father, to whom 
the joy of fatherhood had come so late in life. Mr. 
de bon Repos was astonished, as well as pleased, when 


55 


AT SCHOOL 

his daughter began to apply herself to her studies with 
a zeal so sudden and violent that it did not seem as if 
it could last. But her application did continue, and 
when she was inclined to give up, she would say to 
herself, “ He says I don’t know enough ; ” and then 
she would go at her work with renewed zeal. Her 
thirst for knowledge did not end with books and 
studies, but extended to the house, so that Madam 
de bon Repos was amused when Lucie began to follow 
her about and inquire about her household tasks; but 
she soon found that she had an intelligent and anxious 
learner and helper in her little daughter. Madam de 
bon Repos was a lovely woman, much younger than 
her husband, whom she loved devotedly with an admix- 
ture of passion, respect and gratitude. Her father had 
been an impoverished Huguenot gentleman, in whose 
veins had flowed some of the best blood in France; 
and upon his death she had had a rather unhappy out- 
look, when Mr. de bon Repos had offered himself as 
her husband. She accepted him and had no cause for 
regret, for he worshipped her with a love that became 
stronger and stronger as the years went by. She was 
one of those gentle souls which find their best expres- 
sion in music; and as she possessed a harpsichord of 
the best London make, her home became the meeting 
place of those in the neighborhood who loved music. 
Most delightful of all the evenings to her, however, 
were those in which the company consisted of her hus- 
band, Lucie, and perhaps two or three of the scholars. 
Mr. de bon Repos played the violin very creditably, 


56 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


and she would serve as his accompanist, but often she 
would sit and sing to him in her low, sweet voice. 
At such times, he would quietly watch her, and when 
their glances met their souls would speak to each other 
under the charm of the music, and each could read 
the love in the other’s eyes. 

Religious services were held every alternate Sunday 
by the Rector from Westchester in the little, plain 
edifice which did duty for the Established Church. 
Madam de bon Repos trained her husband’s scholars 
in the singing of the psalms and hymns, so that the 
musical part of the service was much better rendered 
at New Rochelle than in any of the nearby parishes. 
Pierre was imbued with the musical instinct, and under 
the tuition of Mr. de bon Repos and his wife became 
proficient both with the violin and the harpsichord, so 
that these musical evenings became the most delight- 
ful of his boyhood. 

So the two years of his schooling passed away, and 
Pierre was now a strong healthy boy of fifteen, well 
grounded in the rudiments of an education and fitted 
to enter college ; but he had learned more than ap- 
peared on the surface; for from Mr. de bon Repos 
he had acquired those finer graces of mind and per- 
son which distinguish the gentleman, and no one would 
have mistaken him for anything else. During these 
two years he had often visited his home, for West- 
chester is not more than three hours’ walk from New 
Rochelle, and always William Husted had stopped to 
see him on his way to the fair at Rye. During the 


AT SCHOOL 


57 


short vacations spent at home he helped his father 
with his farm work and his younger brothers and sis- 
ters with their schooling. Besides Pierre, his mother’s 
children were Sarah, aged nine; William, seven; 
James, five, and baby Mary, not yet two. These were 
all that were born to Denise Chantier. 

It was in October of 1768 that Pierre and several 
of his fellow-students went out to the woods along 
the Quaker Ridge to get nuts. They had been suc- 
cessful in their quest, and were returning with full 
bags, shouting, laughing, and running as boys will, 
when a fox was sighted scurrying across the road. 
Pierre and two others at once started in pursuit, fol- 
lowing Reynard as he ran toward the town, keeping 
a course near to the road. They had run about a 
quarter of a mile when they lost sight of the fox, and 
then they began a quiet search for the missing quarry. 
Suddenly, they discovered him between two stones, 
watching them with bright eyes. With one accord 
they let out a wild yell of delight and flung their full 
bags of nuts at him. Reynard slipped from his hiding- 
place and darted across the road which was hidden 
from the boys by a growth of bushes. At the same 
instant, they heard a horse’s snort of terror, a heavy 
fall and a groan, and then all was still. Pierre looked 
cautiously into the road and saw a man at full length 
in the dust, his horse standing with ears pricked for- 
ward and his body still shaking with fear, his bridle 
caught over the arm of his fallen rider. It took Pierre 
but a moment to free the horse and slip his bridle over 


58 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


a branch by the wayside; then he stooped to examine 
the man, who lay unconscious. His two companions 
joined him, and he at once sent them for water, while 
he raised the head of the rider and looked to see if 
he knew him. There was something familiar about 
his appearance and Pierre was trying to recall him, 
when the man opened his eyes and looked into his. 
He tried to rise but fell back with a groan; at the 
same time his hand went almost instinctively to his 
breast as if feeling for some object. Pierre’s eyes 
followed the motion, and he noticed a thin silver chain 
from which was suspended a cross. Recognition 
came, and as he slipped the cross out of sight within 
the man’s shirt, he said : 

“ I hope you are not much hurt, Mr. Farmer ; you 
had a bad fall.” 

“ You know me? ” cried the man, with a touch of 
fear in his voice ; “ who are you ? ” 

“ Pierre Husted, sir ; ” and then as he noticed that 
the name brought no information to the injured priest, 
he added, “ You may know me as Pierre Chantier ; 
I’m the boy who scared the French Neutrals at West- 
chester jail one Hallowe’en.” 

“ I remember now,” said Farmer, recognition and 
relief crossing his face; “ help me to rise. I can trust 
you?” 

“ Yes, sir; your secret is safe with me.” 

By this time, the boys were returning with caps 
full of water. Mr. Farmer heard them and looked in 
their direction, then he whispered to Pierre : 


AT SCHOOL 


59 


“ Don’t act as if you knew me; call me Mr. John- 
son, from Stamford.” 

After he had drunk some of the water he seemed to 
be once more the keen man whose every word and 
motion must be watched by himself — the manner of 
the hunted. With the help of the boys he rose slowly 
to his feet, and as he straightened himself up he said 
laughingly : 

“Well! boys, I guess there are no bones broken, 
though Im pretty badly shaken. Nothing worse, ap- 
parently, than a sprained ankle.” 

Pierre supported him as he limped to his saddle 
bags, whence he took a flask of liquor, and after drink- 
ing some, proceeded to remove his shoe and stocking 
and bathe the injured ankle; then he tore a shirt into 
strips and bound up the sprain, replacing his stocking 
and shoe, and rose once more unsteadily to his feet. 
He turned toward his horse as if to mount, whereupon 
Pierre said : 

“ Are you not too much hurt to ride, sir ? Had you 
not better take some rest? There’s a house up the 
road, and we can help you to it.” 

“No; my horse is a sure animal, and I can ride 
easily. Help me to mount him. There, that will do. 
Thank you, young gentlemen. I will get what assist- 
ance I require at the White Plains. If any of you 
should ever come to Stamford, in Connecticut, ask for 
Mr. Johnson and I shall be glad to repay you for 
your help.” With a polite wave of his hat, he rode 
off slowly, and the boys rejoined their companions 


60 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


and walked back discussing the affair. Pierre was 
quiet, as he thought with wondering admiration of the 
courage of this man who, proscribed by law and with 
a price upon his head, could still pursue his dangerous 
mission from a sense of duty. 

In the spring Pierre bade good-bye to the family 
at New Rochelle. As he rode away with his father, 
thinking of the two happy years in the household of 
Mr. de bon Repos, his eyes grew dim and he could only 
see the group gathered about the doorstep indistinctly 
— his preceptor and his gentle wife waving him fare- 
well, his ten fellow-students shouting and cheering, 
and the little form of Lucie waving her hand like the 
others. Then, as he had his last glimpse of them, the 
little maid began to cry and hid her face in the folds 
of her mother’s dress. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE) COLLEGIAN 

It was a lovely spring day when Pierre presented 
himself to Dr. Myles Cooper, the president of King’s 
College. Before entering the great stone building he 
looked about and took in the beauty of the scene — 
the lawn stretching down to the stately Hudson, the 
groups of sycamores and oaks scattered over the lawn, 
the distant woods, clothed in their tender green, the 
boats passing on their way to the city, and the ferry- 
boat slowly and clumsily making its way across the 
river to Paulus Hook. The air was full of the twit- 
tering and songs of the birds, busily engaged in mak- 
ing their habitations for their prospective broods after 
their return from the south; above him, in the build- 
ing, he could hear the voices and merry laughs of 
several of the students who had thrown open their win- 
dows to let in the warm, spring air. A gardener was 
at work superintending the work of some negro slaves 
who were setting out plants and clearing the flower 
beds. His father was with him, and he, too, paused 
and looked about him. 

“ ’Tis a beautiful spot, Pierre, and thou shouldst be 
happy and contented here ; but remember that thou art 
61 


62 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


here for work, and a true man finds his best content- 
ment by doing the work he finds ready to his hand. 
Do thine faithfully and it will please thy mother and 
me/’ 

A minute later they were in the study of Dr. Cooper 
and had given him several letters, which the Doctor 
began to read. 

“Hum! ha! Mr. Peter De Lancey’s letter is very 
gratifying. I trust the honorable gentleman is not in 
such bad health as reported. Mr. de bon Repos, with 
whom I have the honor of an acquaintance, writes you 
are one of the best pupils he ever had. I trust, sir, 
you will continue your reputation here. I notice, sir, 
that your father speaks after the manner of a Friend. 
Are you also a Friend? ” 

“ No, sir; I am a member of the Established Church, 
and was confirmed recently by Dr. Seabury, whose 
letter you have not yet read.” 

“Ah! true — yes, so he states. I am glad of that; 
for in these troublesome times that are upon us, it 
behooves every good subject of the king to support 
him and the Church.” 

Dr. Cooper then proceeded to examine the appli- 
cant, and was so pleased with the result that he said : 

“ I shall report your case to the governors, and I 
am so sure of their admitting you after the satisfactory 
report I shall make that you may enter at once. You 
will be assigned to a room, and there remains nothing 
now except the payment for the first quarter’s tuition.” 

William Husted at once produced a bag, from which 


THE COLLEGIAN 


63 


lie counted out the required sum for a year’s tuition, 
much to the surprise of the president; and as the 
money was in gold and silver, instead of the paper 
money of the colony, Dr. Cooper looked upon the quiet 
man with great respect. He selected a room himself 
for the new student, and even accompanied the father 
and son to it. The room was on the second floor and 
looked out upon the Hudson. Some of the college 
servants brought in the furnishings which William 
Husted had brought in his cart ; then the father placed 
his hands on Pierre’s shoulders and said: 

“ Thou hast been an honest and good lad, Pierre ; 
be an honest and good man. Do not give thyself to 
the frivolities of the city, and beware of temptation. 
Whenever thou feelest like coming to thy home, thou 
wilt be welcome. Thou canst come by one of the 
sloops. Thou wilt need something for thine expenses, 
and it is meet thou shouldst make a good appearance. 
Here are twenty pounds ; do not spend them carelessly ; 
but when they are gone, apply to me for more; for 
above all things, I do not wish thee to run into debt.” 

“ You are very generous, father. Am I not rob- 
bing you, or taking from my brothers and sisters their 
share ? ” 

“No, my son; it can be well spared in thy case. 
Nay, do not accompany me. I have errands to do in 
the town and must be on my way to Kingsbridge so 
as to be home before midnight. Good-bye, Pierre; 
God bless thee, lad.” 

Pierre’s eyes were full of tears ; and after his father 


64 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


had left the room, there fell upon him a spell of loneli- 
ness from which he roused himself by arranging his 
books and other belongings about the room. The 
president had given him a set of rules of the college, 
so that when he heard the ringing of a bell, he knew 
it was for dinner. He went into the lower hall and 
found a number of people going in the same direction, 
so he fell in with them. There were about twenty-dive 
young fellows, whom he judged to be students, the 
others were older and were the professors and tutors. 
Dr. Cooper introduced him to several, and then after 
a Latin grace, they all sat down to dinner. He soon 
fell into conversation with his companions, the one on 
his right being named Cornelius Van Schaick, from the 
neighborhood of Albany, and he on the left being 
named Alexander Gordon, of Saint Croix, in the West 
Indies, the son of a wealthy Scotch sugar planter. The 
dinner ended with a short grace, and then Pierre and 
his two new friends strolled out into the grounds. 
They had been at the college, themselves, only about 
a month, but they eagerly imparted to Pierre all they 
had learned in that time about the customs of the col- 
lege and about the members of the faculty and their 
characteristics. Their stroll led them out of the col- 
lege grounds, through the gate which was closed every 
night in summer at ten o’clock. 

“ If you are not in by that time, Mr. Husted,” said 
Gordon, “ you will be reported to Dr. Cooper ; but we 
can show you a place in the wall where you can 
easily climb over without fear of detection.” 


THE COLLEGIAN 


65 


Pierre laughed as he thanked his informant and 
replied that he intended to keep early hours and devote 
himself to the work of the college. The three youths 
turned into Broadway and continued their walk toward 
the fort at the lower end. Pierre had been to the city 
many times, but not of late years; so he was much 
interested in all he saw. The streets were full of peo- 
ple, engaged in business or taking advantage of the 
beautiful weather for a walk down to the Battery. 
Opposite the Bowling Green, they saw a young man 
and two young ladies approaching. They were laugh- 
ing and chatting gayly, and Pierre thought there was 
something familiar in the appearance of the young 
gentleman, who was dressed in the height of the pre- 
vailing fashion. At sight of them, Van Schaick said: 

“ Here come my cousin, Mistress Anna De Vries, 
and her friend, Mistress Elizabeth De Lancey, escorted 
by 4 Macaroni Billy/ of all people in the world. Let 
us stop and I will introduce you to them, Husted.” 

To the gallant bows of the young men, the girls — 
they were about fifteen or sixteen — answered with 
sweeping curtsies and murmurs of the pleasure it gave 
them to meet Mr. Husted and Mr. Gordon. Then 
both looked with great interest at the tall, handsome 
Pierre, dressed so plainly and neatly and such a con- 
trast to the young gentleman who escorted them. Sud- 
denly, there sprang into the eyes of Mistress De Lancey 
a look of recognition; she blushed and extended her 
hand. 

“ Surely ! ” she said, 44 ’tis my old playfellow Pierre, 


66 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


but grown almost beyond knowing. Dost remember 
me, Mr. Husted? ” 

“ ’Twould be an impossibility to forget the little 
’Lizbeth De Lancey,” he replied, as he pressed her 
hand. 

“ Gad ! ’tis quite touching this meetin’ of childhood’s 
friends. ’Pon honor, ’tis,” sneered “Macaroni Billy,” 
in the most pronounced style of the English officers 
resident in town. He had met the introduction of 
Pierre with a supercilious air of disdain, though he 
had shaken hands cordially with Gordon and Van 
Schaick. Now he continued, “Ah! Mr. Husted must 
feel highly honored by this mark of condescension on 
your part, Mistress Elizabeth. If I remember aright, 
ah! Dame Husted was once a dependent upon the 
bounty of your father, fair lady.” 

He laid particular stress upon the word “ depend- 
ent ; ” and there was no mistaking his meaning. A 
sudden shock of constraint fell upon them all; they 
gave a quick glance at Pierre to see how he bore the 
insult. He had flushed to the roots of his hair, and 
there was a dangerous look in his eyes as he glared at 
his insulter, toward whom he had involuntarily taken 
a step before he remembered he was in the presence 
of ladies. A moment later, Miss De Lancey had laid 
a hand upon his arm as if to restrain him; then she 
turned with high color toward her escort and shook 
her finger at him, as she said scornfully : 

“ Fie! Mr. Bayard, I thought collegian and gentle- 
man meant the same thing.” 


THE COLLEGIAN 


67 


“ You must excuse him, Mistress Elizabeth,” said 
Pierre in a voice which trembled with suppressed 
anger ; “ Bayard has forgotten himself ; the sight of 
me has brought up such painful recollections/’ 

It was now Bayard’s turn to get angry, but before 
anything more could be said, Miss De Lancey, who 
had been watching the faces of the two antagonists 
and who feared from their expressions that her pres- 
ence might be forgotten, turned to Miss De Vries and 
called : 

“ Come, Anna ; we will not put Mr. Bayard to the 
trouble of escorting us farther. My brother James is 
in town and will be quite pleased to see his protege, 
Mr. Husted. Good afternoon, Mr. Bayard. Gentle- 
men, will you accompany us ? ” 

They bowed to Bayard and left him muttering to 
himself, as they turned into Great Queen Street and 
pursued their way toward the upper part of the town. 
For a minute or two, there was silence among them; 
then Mistress Anna made a timid remark about the 
beauty of the weather ; and the ice being broken, they 
were soon engaged in a lively conversation. As they 
crossed Wall Street, their attention was attracted by a 
dignified old gentleman coming slowly along the 
street from the direction of the government building. 
He carried a gold-headed cane and was preceded by a 
negro in livery who cleared the way for his master. 
Everyone stood aside and bowed respectfully. Pierre 
asked who the gentleman was and Van Schaick an- 
swered he was the lieutenant-governor of the Prov^ 


68 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


ince, Cadwallader Colden. At sight of him, Miss De 
Lancey exclaimed : 

“ There is grandfather ! I came into town espe- 
cially to deliver a message to him, and I would have 
forgotten it completely if I had not met him by 
chance. ,, 

They waited till the old gentleman came up. 

“Well! ’Lizbeth, how’s your mother?” he asked, 
as he kissed his granddaughter. 

“ Very well, sir. She wishes to consult you about 
my father’s health, and about changing his physicians, 
as she is not satisfied with his progress.” 

“ Tell her I shall be out to see her to-morrow.” 

As he looked inquiringly toward her waiting com- 
panions, Elizabeth introduced them to him. 

“ I did not know, young gentlemen,” he said, with a 
twinkling eye, as he answered their respectful bows, 
“ that attendance upon the gentler sex was in the 
curriculum of King’s College.” 

“ It is, your excellency,” said Pierre ; “ it is in the 
department of natural science.” 

“ Very good, sir,” he answered, much amused at the 
answer ; “ but it is not a science ; it’s an art. I advise 
these young ladies to beware of men who make a 
science of it — they are apt to be sad rakes and dan- 
gerous to feminine peace of mind and virtue. Your 
father, Mr. Gordon, like myself, is, I presume, a 
Scotchman. Where do you live, sir ? ” 

“ At Saint Croix, your excellency.” 

“ I have always wanted to visit the West Indies and 


THE COLLEGIAN 


69 


study their flora at first hand. I have some very fine 
specimens at my place on Long Island, but plants do 
not do so well as in their native climate and soil.” 

“ I am sure my father would be pleased to send your 
excellency other specimens of tropical flora; and if 
you would like it, sir, I will write to him to that 
effect.” 

“ You are very kind to make the offer, and I shall 
feel it an honor to receive them. You cannot under- 
stand the ardor of any one who rides a hobby, young 
gentlemen; and in the pursuit of botanical specimens 
and their acquisition, I will candidly admit I am as 
greedy and avaricious as a miser over his gold. But 
you young people do not want to stand talking to an 
old gentleman about botany; go study it this glorious 
afternoon in the woods and fields.” With a wave of 
his hand and a bow the Lieutenant-Governor dis- 
missed them and they proceeded on their way. 

A block beyond Wall Street and they were in a 
country road, bordered by farms and estates of the 
wealthier citizens of the city, whose stately mansions 
and well-kept grounds were a pleasure to the eye. The 
merry group of five walked almost to the point where 
Great Queen Street ran into the Bowery Lane before 
Mistress Elizabeth turned into the grounds surround- 
ing a mansion even statelier than those they had 
passed. Its doors and windows stood hospitably open, 
and as the young hostess ran lightly up the steps, she 
called to them to seat themselves on the broad piazza, 
and excusing herself, went within. In a few minutes 


70 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


she reappeared, with a colored servant bearing some 
cooling drinks and cake. When her guests had been 
served, she asked the servant : 

“ Is Mr. James at home, Peter? ” 

“Yes, missy; I t’ink he down by de stable. He 
done buy a new hoss, wot he call er turrowbred, frum 
Englan’ an’ he down a-lookin’ at ’im. He come yis- 
terday, an’ he name ‘ True Briton’.” 

“ Go tell him, Peter, that an old friend of his is 
here who wishes to see him.” 

“ Yes, missy, I tell ’im.” 

In a few minutes the negro returned, preceded by 
a handsome young gentleman apparently under twenty- 
five. He scanned the group without recognition, and 
then looked inquiringly at his sister. 

“ Peter said there was an old friend of mine here,” 
he began, when he was interrupted by Elizabeth, who 
cried merrily : 

“ Eie ! James ; I thought you prided yourself on your 
memory and constancy; and yet you do not recognize 
one of your very oldest friends.” 

“ One of my very youngest, you mean, ’Lizbeth ; for 
if I am not mistaken, here stands Pierre Husted. No 
wonder I didn’t know you at first, Pierre; you have 
grown into such a strapping lad, and it’s years since 
I saw you, but I’m glad to see you again.” 

He shook him cordially by the hand, and then he 
was introduced to the others; Mistress De Vries he 
already knew. The young ladies withdrew, and then 
the gentlemen went to look at the new horse, a thor- 


THE COLLEGIAN 


71 


oughbred English stallion, that at present showed signs 
of his long ocean voyage; but over whose fine points 
De Lancey expatiated with the ardor of a true lover 
of horses. The sun was getting low in the western 
sky before the young men started to leave with Mis- 
tress De Vries. As they waved good-bye to the 
brother and sister standing on the porch, Mistress 
Anna glanced roguishly at the three young men and 
cried : 

“ This is better than going home in the coach or on 
a pillion, ’Lizbeth. I hope I shall meet some of my 
friends; they will just die with envy to see me escorted 
by three collegians.” 

The brother and sister stood for several minutes 
looking after their departing guests; then James asked, 

“ Where did you meet Pierre ? ” 

She told him about the meeting with William Bay- 
ard, and repeated what he had said. “ The damned 
cad ! ” muttered De Lancey under his breath, and then 
was thoughtful and wrathy for some moments, until 
Elizabeth inquired timidly: 

“ What did Mr. Bayard mean by his remark, 
James? ” 

He glanced at her keenly for a moment, hesitated, 
and then said : 

“ You might as well hear it from me and not from 
some one else; for from me you will hear the truth. 
You and Pierre are about the same age, and must have 
been playfellows when you were children and too 
young to know anything about it. His mother was 


72 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


a — a — bond-woman of my father’s. She was a very 
sweet, dainty young woman. I remember when my 
father bought her. I saved baby Pierre from drown- 
ing on that occasion. She served with us five years, 
and then married William Husted, who adopted Pierre 
as his own son.” 

“ But who was Pierre’s father ? I presume his 
mother was a widow.” 

“ We don’t know and have never been able to find 
out. It’s all a mystery that Denise Husted has refused 
to explain. I’d swear his father was a gentleman, 
whatever else he might have been; for Pierre bears 
all the marks of gentle birth. His mother produced 
some money several years ago and he is being edu- 
cated as a gentleman; whether it is wise or not, I 
cannot say. You see, I have only lately learned the 
facts myself ; for father feels that he will not be with 
us long and so imparted to me what he knew. Even 
mother does not know, and you must not tell her.” 

He went into the house, leaving the young girl look- 
ing out dreamily upon the glowing sunset. The story 
she had just heard appealed to the romance in her 
nature, and she pictured in her mind the handsome 
young fellow, her companion of an hour before. Then 
she realized that on that homeward walk, she had 
monopolized Pierre, and left her friend Anna to the 
attentions of the other gentlemen. She had taken a 
sudden liking to Pierre; he was so bright and intelli- 
gent; she had felt indignant at Bayard’s words and 
action, and she had pitied Pierre for the unfortunate 


THE COLLEGIAN 


73 


position in which he had been placed at the time of 
the meeting. Even now she felt a glow of anger 
and contempt for Bayard. Then there came before 
her Pierre’s handsome young face and the look of 
respectful admiration that glowed in his beautiful, 
dark eyes as he talked to her, and there came a sud- 
den throb at her heart. Though alone, a blush crept 
into her cheeks. She arose hastily and went tremu- 
lously into the house. 

Meanwhile, Mistress Anna and her three attend- 
ants strolled back to the town; but Pierre was so 
intent upon his own thoughts that he did not pay 
her much attention. However, Anna did not notice 
his defection, for she was too busy in carrying 
on a gay conversation with her cousin and Gordon. 
Pierre’s thoughts went back to those early days of his 
childhood when he had been an inmate of the De 
Lancey home. The happenings of that time had 
dropped out of his consciousness for years, but now 
that they had been recalled by this meeting, they began 
to push their way forward, at first indistinctly, then 
with greater clearness. He recalled incidents in which 
Elizabeth had been a participant during those five 
years, and then he tried to remember the times when 
he had seen her since. They were few in number ; but 
somehow it seemed to him that he had always known 
the sweet, pretty, girlish face with the tender blue 
eyes. He did not forget that his father belonged to 
the yeoman class, a very superior member of it, but 
still a farmer; and the manner in which he, himself, 


74 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


had been received as an equal by James De Lancey 
and his sister, who belonged to the very elect of the 
gentry of the Province, made him glow with modest 
pride and satisfaction. Not that he looked down in 
the slightest degree upon his father and mother. He 
loved them both too well and was too loyal to have 
any feeling of that sort. And so his thought went 
rambling on until he was called to the necessity of say- 
ing good-bye to Mistress De Vries who had reached 
her own home. After a chorus of good nights, the 
three young men turned back toward Great Queen 
Street. 

“ I propose we go to * Black Sam’s 9 for our supper 
instead of going back to the college,” suggested 
Gordon. 

“ Who is ‘ Black Sam ’ ? ” asked Pierre. 

“Don’t you know him?” asked Gordon and Van 
Schaick together. “ I thought everybody knew him. 
He keeps an inn, or to use the new French expression, 
a restaurant, at the corner of Queen and Broad Streets, 
the most famous in the city. ’Tis a fashionable place. 
All the best merchants go there, the gentry and the 
officers ; there you will see the best people of the city.” 

Pierre acquiesced, and the three companions retraced 
their steps. As they approached the house, Pierre, 
with those recollections of his childish days still upon 
him, looked about with interest. 

“ I used to live in that house,” he said ; “ it used to 
belong to the De Lanceys, I think.” 

“ Perhaps so,” responded Van Schaick ; “ but if it 


THE COLLEGIAN 


75 


did, it must have been so long ago as to be ancient 
history. Fraunce’s Tavern it’s been for nearly ten 
years, I believe. But here’s Sam Fraunce himself on 
the doorstep waiting to welcome us. Ask him.” 

The proprietor, a tall man, so dark as to make peo- 
ple suspect him of being a mulatto, received them with 
most profound bows and confirmed the statement made 
by Pierre. Then he led them into the coffee-room and 
took their order, which he passed on to one of his 
waiters. There were a few persons in the room ; but 
before the three friends had finished their supper, a 
number more came in, among them several army offi- 
cers and officers from the ships. These bore them- 
selves with a certain supercilious and condescending 
air, which was evidently galling to many of the citi- 
zens, who, however, submitted quietly. The young 
men had just paid their reckoning and were on the 
point of leaving when a group of three very young 
officers and a citizen blocked their way. The citizen 
was Bayard. He recognized Pierre and flushed red; 
then with a cool stare in Pierre’s direction, he drawled 
to his companions: 

“ Gad ! gentlemen ; Sam’s is gettin’ so common that 
I shall be obliged to give my custom to Burns. When 
a gentleman runs across people whose mothers were 
servants and whose fathers were nobody knows who, 
it’s time either to put them out or leave yourself.” 

“ Oh ! I say, Bayard ; what dy’e mean ? ” lisped a 
young ensign. But Bayard’s steady stare at Pierre 
left no doubt as to whom he meant. All eyes were 


76 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


now bent upon Pierre, and several of the patrons 
flocked from the tables at the prospect of a row. 
Pierre stood for a minute, white to the lips ; but there 
was a steely glitter in his eyes that made Bayard 
cringe at his own temerity. Then Pierre turned to 
the crowd and said with steady, even voice : 

“ Gentlemen, this is the second time to-day that 
Bayard has insulted me; the first time in the presence 
of ladies when it was impossible to resent it. Here 
I can and will resent it. I thrashed this boy a year or 
more ago, and he bears me enmity for it. I shall stop 
his talk now, so there shall be no more of it. I sup- 
pose I ought to challenge him to a duel,” Pierre con- 
tinued, while a smile flickered across his face for an 
instant, “ but I believe in duels for officers and grown- 
up men. We are boys. Let us settle it in boyish 
fashion with our fists.” 

“ Gad, sir, you’re right,” shouted a middle-aged 
man in the uniform of a major; “ Sam! Sam Francis! 
come here, you black rascal.” And when Fraunce 
came running into the room, the major continued, 
“ Haven’t you a room where two gentlemen can set- 
tle a quarrel? At least, one of them’s a gentleman, 
I’ll stake my honor, damme, this one here that’s been 
insulted.” 

“ Oh! no, Major; I couldn’t permit anything of that 
kind in the house, sir.” 

“ It’s not a duel, damme ; but an old-fashioned fight 
with fists,” shouted the Major. “ Gad ! it takes me 
back to my own boyhood’s days.” 


THE COLLEGIAN 


77 


The Major seemed so delighted that he took charge 
of the affair himself; and Fraunce, having offered the 
use of his “ long room ” — that historic room where 
the New York Chamber of Commerce was born, and 
where, later, Washington was to take leave of his 
officers — the whole party adjourned to see the sport. 
Bayard would have withdrawn if he could have done 
so with any decency. He murmured something about 
a gentleman fighting like a plow-boy and it’s being 
beneath his dignity; but the spirit of the Major had 
animated the crowd, and Bayard was obliged, how- 
ever reluctantly, to go with them upstairs. The pre- 
liminaries were soon arranged, and the two young fel- 
lows partially stripped for the contest. Bayard was 
the heavier of the two, but there was a look about 
Pierre that impressed many in his favor; so that the 
betting — for they were true to their English ideas of 
there being no sport without a wager — was about even 
on the result. As stated Bayard was the older and 
heavier ; but he had now been for a year a resident of 
the city and had been indulging in dissipation, while 
Pierre was fresh from the pure, clean life of the 
country. Bayard tried by sheer strength to get the 
better of his adversary, but Pierre was wary and 
played a waiting game until his opponent became 
winded; then it was his turn to force the fighting. 
In a few minutes, Bayard was moved to cry 
“ Enough ! ” Pierre did not altogether escape punish- 
ment, but a Scotch surgeon from one of the men-of- 
war soon dressed the wounds and bruises of the two 


78 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER’ 


combatants, and Bayard was carried off by some of 
his friends. 

“ Gad ! sir, ’twas as pretty a mill as I ever saw,” 
commented the Major, whose name was Arlington. 
“ Why ! damme ! it’s a pity you’re a gentleman or you’d 
make the best pugilist I ever saw. What strength, 
what muscles, what an eye, and above all, what judg- 
ment, — why, damme, sir, you ought to go in training 
for the lightweight championship of the Province. 
You’ll have a glass of wine with me, sir. Sam! 
Where is that black rascal? Sam, Mr. Husted will 
drink a glass of wine with me. Let it be champagne, 
you blackamoor; I’ve won ten pounds by this affair, 
and nothing else but champagne will do for the victor, 
damme ! ” 

He continued to bustle about, now feeling of Pierre’s 
muscles, now patting him on the back, and obliging 
Pierre, notwithstanding the latter’s objections, to drink 
a glass of the sparkling beverage. Pierre’s compan- 
ions came in for a share of the Major’s attentions, 
and the three had considerable difficulty in getting 
away from this bothersome, new friend. The Major 
was not so abstemious as the collegians and finished 
the bottle himself ; and when they left him, he was still 
fighting over the recent battle and trying in a very 
unsteady way to show some of the bystanders the par- 
ticular cuts which had attracted his fancy. 


CHAPTER VII 


EUZABETH DE EANCEY 

When Pierre waked up in the morning he felt lame 
and sore, and when he looked at himself in the glass 
the reflection of his visage made him smile ruefully. 
He had not yet finished his dressing when there was 
a knock at his door; and upon opening it, he found a 
servant who grinned at his sorry plight. 

“ Mistah Husted, sah, Doctah Coopah w’d lak ter 
see yo’, sah, befo’ yo’ git yer brekfus. Yo’all ’ll fin’ 
him in his offus, sah ! ” 

“ So the Doctor has heard of my escapade already,” 
Pierre thought, with a feeling of shame ; but he finished 
his dressing and went to the office, entering with as 
bold an air as his sinking spirits would permit him 
to assume. The Doctor looked at him sternly for 
several moments. 

“ You have been a student at this college less than 
twenty-four hours and you have already succeeded in 
disgracing it and yourself by a fight in a public tavern. 
What have you to say for yourself, sir ? ” 

“ Nothing, sir. Pm ashamed to admit, sir, that 
what you say is deserved.” 

The Doctor looked surprised at this answer, for he 
79 


80 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 

had expected excuses of some kind. After a pause, he 
said: 

“ Nor is that the worst of it; for another col- 
legian, one who should have known better from his 
longer stay here, is equally guilty with you.” 

“ No, sir; it was I that challenged him to the fight; 
I was the aggressor.” 

“ God bless my soul ! ” cried the astonished Doctor. 
He was so used to the excuses given by schoolboys in 
trying to shift the blame to others, that this straight- 
forward acceptance of blame took his breath away. 
There was not quite so stern a look in his eyes when 
he asked: 

“ And why did you challenge Mr. Bayard to this 
fight?” 

Pierre made no answer, and the Doctor repeated 
his question. 

“ I prefer not to say, sir.” 

“ But I know already, Mr. Husted. I have seen 
your companions, Gordon and Van Schaick, this morn- 
ing, and they have made a clean breast of the affair.” 

“ Then there is no need for me to tell, sir,” and 
Pierre for the first time raised his head and looked into 
the president’s face. There was something in the 
ingenuous look of the young man, albeit there were 
bruises about his eyes that half closed them, that made 
the Doctor lose his dignity; and as he thought of all 
he had heard he was almost on the point of shaking 
the young fellow by the hand and congratulating him. 

“ Why ! d — , that is, God bless my soul, sir ; I am 


ELIZABETH DE LANCEY 


81 


astonished that students of this college could so far 
forget themselves. When I take into account what 
Bayard said to you, I do not bl — ; that is, I find 
your conduct very culpable. The charter of this insti- 
tution gives me the right to punish you, even to the 
extent of bodily chastisement. I think, however, that 
so far as the corporal part goes, you have been suffici- 
ently punished already.” 

This last was said with a smile which was answered 
by Pierre. The Doctor was thoughtful for a minute, 
then he said : 

“ You have not breakfasted yet, Mr. Husted? Ah! 
suppose you breakfast with me.” 

Pierre accepted quickly and they walked off to- 
gether. Thus was begun a friendship between the 
two which was to last for years ; on Pierre's part there 
was loving and respectful consideration; on that of 
the Doctor, a careful, fatherly interest and supervision. 
The Doctor's good opinion of his new protege was 
still further increased by an incident that occurred at 
breakfast. A soldier swaggered into the room and 
stated in a loud voice that he had a message for Mr. 
Husted. Pierre claimed it, and having read the note 
found that Major Arlington extended to him an invi- 
tation to dine at the mess of the — th Foot that day 
and to make the writer's quarters his own. Pierre 
passed it to the Doctor, who, after reading it, looked 
inquiringly at Pierre. There was a look in the dark 
eyes that spoke to him, for he turned to the soldier 
and said : 


82 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


“ Present Doctor Cooper’s compliments to Major 
Arlington and say that Mr. Husted has been confined 
to the limits of the college for his disgraceful conduct 
at Fraunce’s Tavern last night, and that he will be 
unable to accept the Major’s generous invitation.” 

The messenger drew his feet together, saluted and 
went clattering from the mess-hall, scarcely conceal- 
ing the contempt with which he looked about him at 
civilian surroundings. 

That afternoon James De Lancey rode up on his 
new mount to make inquiries about the affair, rumors 
of which he had heard in the city. He was pleased 
and slightly huffed at Pierre’s modesty, but after an 
interview with the president, he rode away thought- 
fully, and that evening questioned his sister again 
about the meeting with Bayard. 

“ Pierre has the right stuff in him,” he said ; “ lie’s 
a gentleman if ever there was one. I shall keep an 
eye on him and back him whenever he needs it. By 
the way, Elizabeth, can’t you introduce him to some of 
your friends so that he may have some enjoyment out 
of the social life about us ? ” 

“ Yes, James,” she answered. “ Anna De Vries has 
already invited him to call at her house, I believe ; and 
you know she has many friends.” 

“ All right, then, sister mine ; we’ll be responsible 
for him; and there’s no use in saying anything about 
his peculiar origin.” 

And so the matter was settled. In the three years 
that followed, Pierre, thanks to the De Lanceys, did not 


ELIZABETH DE LANCEY 


83 


lack the social enjoyment of youth. William Bayard 
was invited to resign from King’s and took himself 
away to enter Yale College instead; so there was no 
one to taunt Pierre with his birth, or the service of 
his mother. Van Schaick and Gordon were his par- 
ticular friends, and neither gave much information 
about Pierre’s quarrel with Bayard. The fact that 
Doctor Cooper had virtually condoned the affair and 
that Bayard had been expelled was convincing enough 
to the students and the city people who heard of it 
that Pierre had been in the right. Added to this was 
the fact that the aristocratic De Lanceys received him 
at their home as an equal and friend, and so no one 
raised a question. Probably, Pierre’s own personality 
had most to do with his acceptance without question 
by everyone with whom he came in contact. He grew 
to be a tall and beautifully formed young fellow, with 
a fine, intelligent face, glowing with good nature and 
amiabiliy; and his expression did not belie his char- 
acter; for he was generous and helpful to his fellow- 
collegians and especially so to those who were new- 
comers at the college. 

What he liked best, however, were his walks and 
talks with Doctor Cooper. At this time, political mat- 
ters were moving rapidly toward the climax which, 
in a few years, was to plunge the colonies into a state 
of war. John Morin Scott, Alexander McDougall 
and other members of the Sons of Liberty were filling 
the papers and writing pamphlets with broadsides 
against the encroachments of British power upon the 


84 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


rights of the colonists. To these the worthy Doctor 
felt it was his duty to write answers exposing the fal- 
lacies of his opponents. In the preparation of these, 
he was often assisted by his favorite pupil, who hunted 
up the historical references for the president, both in 
the college library and the city library in the Province 
House in Wall Street. The result was that the mind 
of the young collegian became imbued with the right- 
eousness of the cause of the King and his ministry, 
and his contact with the De Lanceys and other fami- 
lies of the gentry strengthened further his belief that 
the Parliament could treat the colonies as it chose; a 
very comfortable doctrine for those who held govern- 
ment positions, or whose social and political supremacy 
depended upon a conservative course or upon the main- 
tenance of existing conditions. 

In 1770, “ Peter of the Mills/’ the father of James 
De Lancey, died, and the family was plunged into 
mourning; but Pierre was on such terms with them 
that, though all gayeties were suspended so far as they 
were concerned, he continued to visit them as an inti- 
mate friend. During some portion of the year, it was 
the custom of Madam De Lancey and the children who 
were at home to stay at their mansion at West Farms ; 
and often during these sojourns, Pierre found it con- 
venient to visit his parents at Castle Hill Neck. His 
supply of money was never curtailed, but he did not 
abuse the generosity of his father and so was liberal 
without being improvident. William Husted contin- 
ued to prosper with his farm, but Pierre often won- 


Elizabeth de lancey 85 

dered how his father’s farm could produce enough 
for the support of his family at home and at the same 
time give him such a plentiful allowance. Once or 
twice he questioned his father about it, but the reply 
was almost invariably : 

“ Thy mother and I are well able to afford it for 
thee, and thou art not depriving thy brothers and sis- 
ters of their share. It is our business to supply thee, 
and thine to ask no questions ” 

In the spring of 1771, Gordon received a letter from 
his mother stating that his father had been stricken 
with paralysis, and that it was necessary that he should 
cut short his college career and return to Saint Croix 
to take charge of the plantation. Gordon had been 
paying attention to Anna De Vries during his course 
at the college and he decided that he would take her 
back with him as his wife. The young lady was will- 
ing, and her family consenting, the wedding was 
arranged for at once, as the young couple were to sail 
almost immediately for the West Indies. Pierre was 
invited to be the best man for his friend, and Elizabeth 
De Lancey was to be the bridesmaid. Olaf De Vries 
was a wealthy merchant of old Dutch stock, who occu- 
pied a fine mansion surrounded by well-kept grounds 
on Hanover Street, and so the best in the city were 
invited to the festivities. 

The bride was a very pretty girl, but the bridesmaid 
was so beautiful in her weddng finery that a buzz of 
admiration swept through old Trinity as she appeared. 
It was not until the ceremony was over and Pierre 


86 


a Princess and another 


started to escort her from the church that he saw her. 
It was the first time he had seen her in anything but 
mourning garb for over a year. Now her grace and 
beauty overpowered him. She was standing with a 
smile on her lips looking toward him and waiting to 
give him her arm to follow the newly wedded pair. 
For an instant he hesitated, and as he looked into her 
eyes there came into his an expression that made the 
smile on her lips stiffen while for a moment she grew 
pale; then a flood of crimson swept over her face and 
her eyes fell in shy confusion before his. His knees 
almost gave way beneath him as she laid her hand on 
his arm and he escorted her down the aisle to the 
doorway. She still held her eyes down as if afraid 
to meet his glance, and he could feel her little hand 
tremble on his arm. When they reached the open 
air, he gave a long intake of the breath and helped her 
into the waiting coach. In the short drive to the 
house, neither said anything; but when she stood in 
the door of the mansion, she gave him a quick ques- 
tioning glance, but his sober, thoughtful, almost stern 
face was not what she expected, and giving a little 
pout, she passed quickly into the rooms brilliantly 
lighted with numberless candles in their silver sconces, 
and was soon surrounded by an admiring group of 
young men, among whom were many of the English 
officers. 

Pierre turned away and sought a quiet place where 
he could think undisturbed. “ I love her, I love her/’ 
his thoughts kept repeating over and over. There 


ELIZABETH DE LANCEY 


87 


was a delicious joy in his sudden discovery, but there 
was also an element of fearful doubt which overcame 
him. Had she read the expression in his eyes, he 
wondered. Did her manner show that she was dis- 
pleased at his boldness ; or, sweet thought at which his 
heart beat rapidly, did she care for him? No, it did 
not seem possible. She was too far above him in rank 
and family, a niece of the late Lieutenant-Governor 
De Lancey, the highest and most powerful man in the 
Province. What was he ? The son of a worthy 
yeoman — no, only the adopted son. Then Bayard’s 
remarks came home to him like a blow : Who was his 
father ? Had his mother been out to service with Mr. 
De Lancey? His thought went back to the days of 
his childhood, and he remembered he had lived in the 
De Lancey homes and that his mother had taken care 
of the De Lancey children. Then he recalled what 
Bayard had called him when they were at school 
together in New Rochelle — a bastard . He clenched 
his hands and the blood rushed to his head till his 
arteries swelled like knots ; he tried to drive the thought 
from him. His dear, sweet mother! No, no, no; it 
was impossible. But whence came his income ? Could 
it be that his father, his real father had given it so that 
he could be taken care of, and had William Husted 
condoned his wife’s fault for the sake of her love? 
For an hour, though it seemed to him an eternity, he 
wrestled alone with the problem that confronted him; 
and when he had finished he was as pale and tired as 
if he had been engaged in the fiercest physical exertion ; 


88 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


but in that conflict with himself, he had passed from 
youth into manhood, and he had made his resolve. 
He was unknown and, save for the goodness of his 
adopted father, nameless. He had no right to show 
his love for this young girl so far removed from him. 
It would be hopeless, and it would be a breach of the 
kindly hospitality extended to him by the De Lanceys. 
He felt as if he would like to go back to his room 
and leave the scene of gayety which surrounded 
him. 

Instead, he rejoined the joyous company, and ran 
the gauntlet of the merry questions hurled at him from 
all sides as to his absence. Mistress De Lancey was 
in the midst of a gay and admiring group, but her eyes 
were constantly roaming about the room or watching 
the doors as if in search of someone. As Pierre 
entered, she stopped so suddenly in what she was say- 
ing to those who were about her that they noticed it, 
and followed her eyes to see what had caused her to 
do so. For a moment she was embarrased; then she 
said: 

“ I — I — am surprised to see how pale and ill Mr. 
Husted looks.” Pierre came toward her and she 
cried, “ Where have you been, sir? It is the duty of 
the groomsman to pay devoted attention to the brides- 
maid, and you have deserted me during the whole 
evening.” 

Though her words were careless and laughing, there 
was to him, who knew her tones so well, a shade of 
concern and in her eyes was a mute question. True 


ELIZABETH DE LANCEY 89 

to his new resolve, he answered lightly with a sweep- 
ing bow : 

“ I am sorry that I have offended you, Mistress De 
Lancey. You must ascribe it to my rustic training 
that I have been so remiss in my attentions and to the 
fact that I have had a slight attack of illness.” 

She gave him a glance which he refused to meet, 
and then her lip curled slightly as she resumed her 
conversation with those about her. Pierre tried to 
enter into conversation with the rest, but she per- 
sisted in ignoring him; and the poor fellow even saw 
her carried off to supper by another man. The re- 
mainder of the evening was full of misery to him, and 
after the young married couple had taken coach for 
Mr. De Vries’s country place near Kip’s Bay, where 
they were to spend their honeymoon, he felt no desire 
to take part in the dancing that followed but made 
his adieus to his host and hostess and took his 
departure. 

For ten days he kept away from the De Lancey 
house; then one day, James De Lancey, who was now 
Sheriff of Westchester County, rode up to the college 
door and inquired for him. 

“ What is this I hear, Pierre ? I have been away 
to Westchester for over a week, and upon my return, 
find that you have not been near the house. Was the 
wedding too much for you? I noticed you were pale 
and looked ill that night and thought, perhaps, you 
have been ill since.” 

“ No ; I’ve been busy with my college work.” 


a Princess and another 


DO 

“ I’m glad to know it’s no worse; but you certainly 
look thin. Madam De Lancey wants you to come out 
to dinner to-morrow and spend the afternoon and eve- 
ning. By the way, here is a note from my sister con- 
taining the mater’s invitation. I almost forgot it. 
Will you come? ” 

“ How can I do otherwise when the Sheriff himself 
comes after me,” laughed Pierre, as he took the note, 
while a tremor of delight shot through him. 

“ Then I’ll say you are coming,” called his friend 
and rode away. 

Pierre walked to a favorite spot overlooking the 
river where he knew he would not be disturbed ; then 
he pressed the note to his lips before opening it. The 
colonial dames were no great spellers, as the follow- 
ing will show: 

"New Y\ May 15th, 1771. 

My Deer Mr. H usted; 

Mama wants you to come to Dinner t mw . Their will be no 
one ex pt the Family. I heer that you have not ben well & I 
am sorry to heer it. I was afrade you mite have tak n Offence 
at my Conduct the night of Anna’s Wed g & I have b n reproching 
my f ever sence be se 1 treeted you so badly. I hope you will 
forgive me. 

Y re to Command, 

Elizabeth De Lancey.” 

He looked about cautiously to see that no one was 
watching him; then pressed his lips upon the note a 
dozen times, while he whispered, “ The dear, sweet 
girl. I love you, little ’Eizabeth; but you will never 
know.” 


ELIZABETH t>E LANCEY 


91 


Pierre went to the De Lancey’s, and the old, pleasant 
relations were resumed ; but never again did Elizabeth 
surprise that look which she had once seen in his eyes, 
until she began to think she had been mistaken. In 
the summer, the family went to West Farms; but 
Pierre stuck to his college work and the friendship and 
comradeship between him and Doctor Cooper became 
closer and closer, until Pierre began to look upon him 
almost as a second father. With the fall, the De 
Lanceys returned, and the social life of the city was 
resumed as others came back. Pierre made an excuse 
of his college work to keep away as much as possible, 
and especially from Mistress De Lancey. He heard 
of her frequently as among the gayest of the gay ; and 
though he often felt a pang of envy at realizing she 
was not for him, yet he could not forbear a certain 
pride in her success as the toast of the town. In the 
spring he was graduated with a score of others. The 
occasion was a brilliant one and graced by the presence 
of all the most important members of the official and 
social life of the Province. Van Schaick was gradu- 
ated at the same time; and the two friends separated 
with mutual hopes of meeting again, the one to Albany 
and the other to Westchester. At home, Pierre found 
that there was plenty in which he could help his father ; 
and as his future had not yet been settled, he became 
for the time being a farmer. He kept away from the 
perilous neighborhood of West Farms, and when 
Madam De Lancey saw him on Sundays when she 
attended the church at Westchester and extended invi- 


92 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 

tations to him to visit her house, he invariably declined, 
making as an excuse his father’s need of him. The 
great lady had always liked him; but these constant 
declinations offended her, as she felt that he did not 
appreciate the condescension on her part in recognizing 
him as something different from the small farmers 
about the Borough. 

The crops that fall were very good, and the old 
Heathcote mill at Westchester was worked to its full 
capacity; so that William Husted determined to send 
his grain, or a large part of it, to the De Lancey mill 
on the Bronx. It was upon Pierre that this work fell, 
and he was obliged to pass the De Lancey homestead 
on his trips. It was on his first trip that he met on 
the road a small party of ladies and gentlemen on 
horseback. Pierre drew his wagon to one side; and 
as they passed him, he noticed they were all young 
and that Elizabeth was the center of the group. She 
recognized him and at once drew in her horse. 

“ Good morning, Mr. Husted,” she cried ; “ Mamma 
is quite offended with you for not calling at the house, 
and James is, too. I am sure you could find time in 
the midst of your farming to so honor us.” 

“ My father and I are exceedingly busy, Mistress 
Elizabeth, and so far it has been impossible. Per- 
haps, later, when the press is over, I shall find time.” 

“ O ! very well, sir,” she returned with a curl of her 
lip, and touching her horse with her whip, rejoined 
her party and rode off. Pierre had been quite an 


ELIZABETH DE LANCEY 


93 


object of interest to one member of the party, a hand- 
some young fellow of about twenty-five, who had 
examined him very closely while he was talking to 
Miss De Lancey. Now Pierre heard him say, as the 
young lady rejoined the group : 

“ Gad ! Mistress De Lancey, at home many of our 
gentlemen are farmers, but here you seem to reverse 
things; for this young farmer is a gentleman, not- 
withstanding his homespun. I never saw a finer bow 
or more graceful bearing at Saint James. ,, 

“Yes, my lord, he is a gentleman, a graduate of 
Kings — ” but Pierre heard no more as they rode out 
of hearing. He looked after the party and there shot 
through him a pang of envy and jealousy; for the 
young lord seemed to be on friendly terms with his 
hostess. Pierre wondered who the stranger could 
be, and upon reaching the mill, asked his old friend 
McCabe. 

“ Shure ! Mashter Peer, that's Lord Sackville. They 
do say that he's very swate on th' young leddy. He’s 
out here, seein' th' Col’nies, for he intinds t’ inter th’' 
House o' Commons, an’ wants ter be able ter answer 
Mister Burke, th’ agent o’ Noo York, whin thet gentil- 
man gets up ter talk. They do say Burke’s a powerful 
talker; but thin, he c’dn’t be annything else, bein’ an 
Oirishman, glory be ter God ! ” 

In the week that followed, Pierre met Miss De 
Lancey several times, and twice she was accompanied 
by Lord Sackville without any others. Upon all these 
occasions, she gave him a curt nod of recognition,. 


94 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


but no more, and the young lord looked at him with 
interest. On the following Sunday, Pierre dressed in 
his best and went to church. Every one among the 
gentry greeted him without condescension and in the 
same manner as they would an equal; for “Husted’s 
Pierre ” was a favorite with them all, and they knew 
instinctively, notwithstanding the mystery about his 
mother and himself, that he was one of themselves. 
This mystery was an old and almost forgotten story 
with the elders, and very few of the young people 
knew anything about it. Pierre was surprised when 
James De Lancey came up with Lord Sackville and 
said : 

“ Pierre, Lord Sackville has expressed a desire to 
meet you, so I have brought him to you.” 

“ Ah ! yes, Mr. Husted ; you see I’m making notes 
about the Colonies, and I’ve heard something about 
you from Mistress De Lancey and from the Sheriff 
here. It’s most extraordinary — your case, I mean — 
your being a — ah — farmer, and at the same time a 
graduate of a college. Perhaps you can give me 
some information about educational matters in the 
Province.” 

To Pierre’s deferential bow at the presentation 
the young lord had extended his hand and shaken 
Pierre’s heartily. He was a very nice mannered young 
fellow, and Pierre would have liked him well enough if 
it had not been for the thought of Elizabeth De Lan- 
cey. As it was, the stiffness between them wore off 
in a few minutes, and they were chatting in a very 


ELIZABETH DE LANCEY 95 

pleasant manner, when the De Lancey coach drove up 
and Lord Sackville at once excused himself. 

“ Very glad indeed to have met you, Mr. Husted, 
and hope to have the pleasure again. What you have 
told me is very interesting, very ; ” and with a polite 
bow, he went to the coach, through whose window 
Pierre could see the face of Elizabeth De Lancey. She 
looked in his direction for a moment and gave him the 
slightest sign of a bow; then Lord Sackville helped 
her to alight, being very careful and graceful in doing 
so. Everyone else stood aside as if recognizing his 
right to assist her. The last bell rang from the church, 
and the gathering on the Green broke up as the people 
strolled decorously into the small edifice. Pierre felt 
sad and gloomy, and his feeling was accentuated when 
he heard Miss Willett of Cornell’s Neck remark to a 
friend : 

“ My lord will take something else back to England 
with him besides his notes. Elizabeth De Lancey will 
be my Lady Sackville if she but raises her hand. 
’Twill be a great match for the De Lanceys, and make 
them more powerful than ever.” 

Several weeks, went by. Pierre had long since fin- 
ished his trips to the De Lancey mill, but one morning 
rode over on horseback to have a final settlement with 
the miller. After he had finished that, he stopped for 
a few minutes’ talk with McCabe. 

“ Do you remember, Pat, the game we once started 
when I brought you a message from Mr. Farmer? ” 

McCabe’s face at once changed from its usual ex- 


96 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


pression of friendly and droll good-nature to a look of 
alarm. He looked stealthily about him, placed his 
hand on Pierre’s arm, and said: 

“ Sshh ! for God’s sake, Mashter Peer, don’t say 
annything more.” 

“ I didn’t know, McCabe, but what you’d like to 
know that the game ended all right, and that I have 
met Mr. Farmer — Father Farmer — several times 
since.” 

He was amused at the terrified look of the Irishman 
and at the manner in which he fairly hissed, 

“Sshh ! Fer th’ love o’ God, don’t ye mintion thet 
name agen, Mashter Peer.” 

He glanced up and saw the laughing eyes and then 
with a great sigh of relief, he cried : 

“ But it’s a great joker, ye are, Mashter Peer, to 
scare a poor man like thet. . . . But let’s change 

the subjeck, as me ould mither used to say, whin anny- 
thing unpleasant occurred. Th’ fam’ly doos be goin’ 
back to th’ city nex’ wake. His lordship wint las’ wake ; 
an’ me darter Annie, who wur-r-ks up at th’ big house 
as wan o’ th’ maids, sez as how he wuz in love wi’ 
th’ Mistress ’Lizabeth, but thet she’d diev none o’ him; 
an’ so he wint back ter th’ city fer his traps an’ is 
now on his way ter Boston.” 

Pierre’s heart gave a great bound. Was this true? 
he asked himself. Why had she let this great match 
go — for it was a great match even for the highest 
aristocrats in the Province? His lordship was every- 
thing to attract a maid’s heart : young, handsome, well- 


ELIZABETH DE LANCEY 


97 


born, wealthy, and, for a nobleman, good and virtuous. 
So engrossed was he in these thoughts that he only 
half heard what McCabe was saying and did not see 
a stranger who rode up on a powerful black horse, 
until he heard a voice asking McCabe : 

“ Will you kindly direct me to Kingsbridge, my 
good man ? ” 

The voice sounded familiar, and Pierre glanced at 
the rider in surprise. McCabe’s face was a study with 
its mingled feelings of fear, respect and humility. 
Pierre and the stranger looked at each other for a 
moment, then Pierre extended his hand and said, with 
a smile: 

“ Mr. Johnson, of Stamford ; I’m glad to meet you 
once more. I trust, sir, that you had no further 
trouble with your ankle.” 

“ None, I assure you, Mr. Chantier — that is, Mr. 
Husted.” 

McCabe looked from one to the other, and with a 
relieved voice exclaimed : 

“ ’Twas a great game, yer riv — Mister Farmer, I 
mane, ye started with this lad so manny years ago, 
an’ ’tis a fine lad ter kape a saycret.” 

Pierre drew near the stranger and said in a low 1 
tone, “ Did you come through Westchester, sir ? ” 

“ Yes, but I did not stop ; there were too many per- 
sons about.” 

“ Then, sir, I wish to caution you. There is a re- 
ward offered, Mr. Johnson, for the arrest of a certain 
Father Farmer, or Steinmeyer; and as you are a 


98 


A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


stranger in these parts, you might be mistaken for the 
person advertised. I remember seeing a similar re- 
ward posted when I was a boy. I heard Constables 
Joe Hunt and Ned Ferris discussing the proclamation 
this morning when I was reading it, and they said 
that twenty pounds were not to be picked up every 
day for so easy a matter, and they would arrest every 
stranger they saw until they caught the right one.” 

“ I thank you, sir, for your information. May God 
bless you for your kindnesses to me on several occa- 
sions. . . . On my way from Westchester I passed 
a young lady in a gig which had broken down. It is 
most extraordinary how your girls and young maids 
travel about alone. Such things are unknown in 
Europe. But that’s beside the question. The young 
lady desired me to mention at the mill as I passed 
by that she would like assistance sent to her. I thank 
you once more, sir, and will say good-day.” 

He shook hands with Pierre, and leaned over and 
whispered to McCabe, “ Not to-night. The informa- 
tion I have just received makes it too dangerous. I 
shall not be in these parts again for a year. Until 
then, God bless and keep you.” McCabe bowed his 
head while the priest made the sign of the cross cov- 
ertly; then Mr. Farmer removed his hat and bowed 
to Pierre, turned his horse and rode off. Pierre at 
once mounted his own horse, said good-bye to McCabe 
and started toward Westchester. 

He had ridden about a mile when he saw ahead of 
him a two-wheeled gig with one wheel off. The horse 


ELIZABETH DE LANCEY 


99 


was cropping the grass by the wayside, while a young 
lady was gathering masses of golden-rod which grew 
luxuriously by the side of the road. At the sound of 
the horse’s feet, she looked up at the rider, and Pierre 
was astonished to see Elizabeth De Lancey. In a 
minute he was dismounted and was advancing, hat 
in hand. 

“ I was at the mill when a traveler came through and 
said there was a young lady in distress ; but I did not 
imagine it was you.” 

“ Yes, I had been into Westchester and had got this 
far on my return when the wheel came off. I was not 
alarmed, for I knew someone would be along soon. I 
was nearly spilled into the road,” she laughed, “ but 
old Dolly is safe and stopped at once.” 

He threw the bridle of his horse over a sapling, then 
looked at the cause of the accident and proceeded to 
unhitch Dolly from the gig. 

“ The linch-pin has come out ; that’s all the trouble. 
I’ll make one of wood and that will do till you reach 
the mills.” 

The gig was a light affair, and he placed the wheel 
and lifted the axle of the carriage and slipped the 
wheel on with one hand while holding the weight of 
the gig with the other. She watched him with the 
admiration that most women feel for manly strength 
and skill. Then with his knife he whittled a piece of 
tough wood and slipped it into the place of the miss- 
ing pin. The whole affair did not take five minutes 
before she was again seated in the gig and ready to 


100 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


resume her journey. During this whole time he had 
not said a word, which seemed to amuse the young 
lady ; for now that she was ready to go on, she said : 

“ You haven’t been very talkative this morning, 
Master Pierre.” 

He looked up quickly into her smiling face, and as 
his eyes met hers, there sprung into them that look she 
had seen once before in old Trinity. Her heart flut- 
tered ; she blushed, and said timidly : 

“ We — we — return to the city next week.” 

“ Yes, so I have heard.” 

The voice was so rough and agitated that she looked 
up in surprise ; but this time, as her eyes met his they 
did not drop. She felt her whole body tremble, and 
into her eyes sprang a look that answered his. For 
moments they looked thus ; then he gasped : 

“ God ! is it possible I read aright, that which I see 
in your eyes ? ” 

“ Is it what I see in yours? ” she murmured. 

“ And what do you see in mine? ” 

" Love,” she whispered. 

He flung his arms out with an inarticulate cry and 
took a step toward her ; then he stopped suddenly and 
groaned : 

“ Oh, God ! I have no right, I have no right.” 

He covered his eyes with his hands as if to shut out 
the sight of her. A great pity filled her, believing he 
was thinking of the difference in their stations. She 
reached out her arms and said softly, 

“ Pierre.” 


ELIZABETH DE LANCEY 


101 


At that he looked again. The outstretched arms, 
the glowing eyes and cheeks, the tempting lips — the 
temptation was too great. He stepped to where she 
sat in the gig and took her in his arms. He hurt her 
with the fierceness of his embrace, but it was a pain 
that was blissful to her; more blissful still were his 
almost incoherent words : 

“ Xizbeth ! my darling, my sweetheart, I love you, 
I love you.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


CAPTAIN ROSCOE 

During the week before the departure of the De 
Lanceys, the young lovers met several times ; and they 
agreed that for the present it was better to keep their 
love a secret from everybody, for they looked for oppo- 
sition from her family. 

“ It is certainly great presumption on my part,” 
Pierre said, “ to dare to look upon you with eyes of 
love, when you consider my position and the fact that 
I have still a name and fortune to make for myself 
before I can claim you.” 

“ Love should always be presumptuous, dear. You 
do not know how unhappy you made me for a whole 
year by your failure to speak. I thought I read your 
secret the day of Anna’s wedding ; but when you were 
silent, I was afraid I was mistaken.” 

“ I was unhappy, too ; for I had made up my mind 
it could never be and so I kept away from you. I 
was jealous of every one who knew you and who spoke 
of you to me. Words cannot express what I felt 
toward Lord Sackville especially ; he seemed so fitting 
.a mate for you.” 

“ Yes, I, liked him immensely, and my family were 
' 102 


CAPTAIN ROSCOE 


103 


all for the match. I was sorely tempted to accept him, 
but the thought of you prevented. I hoped that some 
day you would speak.” 

“ ’Twas a great sacrifice to make, my darling. If 
I needed any proof of your love, your refusal of my 
lord would convince me. Even now, I question 
whether your choice is a wise one. It may be years 
before I can claim you.” 

“ I am willing to wait, Pierre, even if it be twenty 
years. I love you better than my family, better than 
rank or position, better than life itself. I would be 
willing to run away with you and marry you as Mis- 
tress Schuyler did her husband, if there is no other 
way.” 

His only answer was to take her in his arms and 
press his lips to hers ; and Elizabeth was content ; for in 
his beautiful, dark eyes she read a love and devotion 
which were too deep for words. 

The evening before the De Lanceys left for New 
York, Pierre rode over to say good-bye to them. 
Madam De Lancey was busy with her preparations, 
and after a few minutes’ conversation with her caller 
excused herself to direct her servants in regard to the 
packing. The two lovers were left alone, and they 
took advantage of the opportunity to renew their vows 
of constancy. So intent were they upon each other 
that they did not hear Madam De Lancey return. She 
stood in the doorway and saw the clasped hands and the 
looks they cast upon each other. There was no mis- 
taking their relations. For a moment she staggered, 


104 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


the shock was so great; then she was on the point of 
speaking, but a second thought tied her tongue and 
she withdrew without their having been aware of her 
presence. 

“ It is boy and girl love/' she murmured to herself ; 
“ it will pass and no harm done, and no one need be 
the wiser. A match between them is impossible. I 
must consult James ; he will know how to act.” For 
upon her son James, Madam De Lancey depended more 
than upon any other of her numerous children. She 
sat in her room and thought deeply over this new con- 
dition that confronted her. She heard Pierre mount 
his horse and ride away, but still she sat and thought. 
Many things were clear to her now, especially why 
Lord Sackville had not become her son-in-law. At 
times she was moved to anger against both of the 
young people; but she was a sensible woman, and 
realized that such things are inevitable when one is 
young. “ Besides,” she thought, “ who can blame 
Elizabeth? Pierre is very attractive, and if it were 
not for the mystery of his birth, there would be no 
objection to him. Why will not Denise talk? ” 

Finally she went to bed, determined to leave the 
whole matter in the hands of her son, who was away 
at the county-seat at the White Plains. The next 
morning she wrote a letter and left it for James when 
he returned to the house; then with her servants and 
children, she started on her journey to the city. 

James De Lancey came back two days later and 
found his mother’s letter. He was astonished at the 


CAPTAIN ROSCOE 


105 


news it contained, but he smiled gently over his 
mother’s vagaries — in one sentence denouncing the 
insolent presumption of Pierre, in the next making 
excuses for the two young people, or chiding Elizabeth 
for forgetting herself, her family and her position. 
There was one thing clear to him, however. He loved 
his sister and he loved Pierre, and if he could secure 
their happiness he would do so ; but there was only one 
person who could help him, and that was Denise 
Husted. He mounted his horse and rode over to 
Castle Hill Neck. He looked with admiration at the 
lovely woman approaching middle-age who came in 
answer to his rat-a-tat upon the brass door-knocker. 
She was dressed in the usual homespun of the farmers’ 
wives, but her French delicacy of adornment showed 
in little touches here and there that relieved her gown 
from its Quakerish plainness. Her speech was good 
English, though with a strong accent, and occasion- 
ally interspersed with French words. 

“ Good morning, M’sieur James,” she cried brightly 
at sight of her visitor. “ Eet is a great pleasure to 
see you, and I am highly honored. Will you not 
enter and seat yourself? ” 

As she stood aside and ushered him into her best 
room, he realized why her neighbors addressed her as 
“ Madam ” Plusted instead of the more ordinary 
“ dame ” of her station in life. She looked at him 
inquiringly. 

“ Eef you have come to see my husban’ or Pierre, 
I shall have to call them ; for they are at work in the 


106 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


sal’ meadow at ze end of ze point. Eet will take my 
sonAVilliam some time to go, for zay are quite a dis- 
tance. How are Madame, votre mere, an’ ze rest of 
ze family ? ” 

“ They are well, I thank you, Denise. They re- 
turned to the city a few days ago. I do not wish to 
see Pierre, but I wish to talk to you about him.”* 

At this, she gave him a quick, startled look, then 
made an effort to appear unconcerned. 

“ Yes, eet is about time he was doing something 
besides farm work, otherwise his time at college will 
have been wasted. I am pleased you have shown so 
much interest in heem. He is a fine, ’andsome young 
man.” 

There was an air of natural pride in the way in 
which she spoke. At De Lancey’s next remark her 
whole manner changed to one of terror. 

“ Denise,” he said slowly and solemnly, “ it is about 
Pierre’s future that I wish to talk. The happiness of 
his life and that of others may depend on what you 
say, for I learned from my father before he died that 
you, only, could tell about him. Who is his father ?” 

“ Ah, no, no, no, m’sieur, I cannot answer zat ques- 
tion. Eet is impossible.” 

As De Lancey watched her ,it suddenly struck him 
that there was not much resemblance between her and 
Pierre. On the spur of the moment, he asked : 

“ Denise, are you his mother? ” 

She grew so white that he thought she was going 
to faint. She gasped for breath and made several 


CAPTAIN ROSCOE 107 

efforts before she could speak. Then her words came 
almost in a whisper: 

“ C ertainement , m’sieur; everybody knows zat I am 
his mother — your father, your mother, my husban’ — 
all, everybody knows.” 

Her voice had gradually grown stronger as she pro- 
ceeded, and at the end she looked at him defiantly as 
if challenging him to deny her statement. He was 
very sober as he said : 

“ Denise, I trust you are telling me the truth. If 
you only realized how much depends on what you 
say.” 

“ Eet is the truth.” 

He gazed at her for a moment, then he said slowly : 

“ I am disappointed ; I hoped to learn something 
but I see you cannot or will not tell me. I shall not 
trouble you again about this matter.” 

He walked to the door, whither she accompanied 
him, bowed good-bye to her, mounted his horse and 
rode off in deep thought. Denise returned to her room 
and for hours she was as one distracted; but when 
William and Pierre returned for their supper, she 
met them at the door. Husted stooped to kiss her. 

“ Denise,” he said with glowing eyes, “ thou art a 
sweet woman, and I love thee. Thou hast been a 
good wife to me.” 

“ Eet is good to hear you say so, my husband.” 

She was happy to receive her husband’s commenda- 
tion, and in her heart extended it to- cover her action 
of the day, of which he knew nothing except that the 


108 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


Sheriff had been there on a matter of business of his 
family. 

Meanwhile, the Sheriff rode slowly and thought- 
fully homeward, debating in his mind what was best 
for him to do. As he pondered his recent interview, 
there gradually arose in his mind a doubt as to 
whether he had been explicit enough with Denise — 
whether it would not be better for him to return and 
tell her of the actual condition of affairs between 
Pierre and his sister Elizabeth — and then once more 
put the question as to Pierre’s paternity. His state- 
ment as to Pierre’s happiness had been too general ; if 
he were more definite, perhaps, Denise would unlock 
her lips. Several times he actually reined in his horse 
with the purpose of returning to Castle Hill; but by 
this time he was within a short distance of the Mills, 
and he took compassion on his horse, which had car- 
ried him many miles that day, and so kept on. He 
wished to spare the feelings of both the young people 
as much as possible, but he knew it was useless to 
appeal to his sister. With Pierre he might have bet- 
ter success, and so he determined to see the young 
man. There was no immediate hurry; let them live 
in their fools’ paradise for a while — it could do no 
harm. The wrench must come, and what matter 
whether now or. later? Pierre was in Westchester 
and Elizabeth in New York, so there was no danger 
of their coming together for some time. And so the 
Sheriff reached his home. 

A week later he was in the city superintending the 


CAPTAIN ROSCOE 


109 


arrival of some freight which had been sent from 
West Farms by the sloop from the mills, when the 
Westchester sloop arrived on the other side of the 
wharf and he was surprised to see Pierre. 

“ Halloa ! ” he cried ; “ what brings you here ? ” 

“ I’ve come down with some of my father’s produce 
for the market; apples, potatoes, pumpkins and so 
forth, and I expect to go back with Jim Bowne 
to-morrow morning. ,, 

“ Have you anything to do this evening, Pierre ? ” 

“ N-o-o,” was the doubtful reply; “ nothing special. 
I did think of paying my respects to Madam De 
Eancey.” 

“ She will not be at home,” replied the Sheriff, 
lying readily. “ I’m stopping at Burn’s Coffee House 
— you know it, opposite the Bowling Green — and I 
want to have a talk with you this evening, if you can 
make it.” 

“ All right, Sheriff ; I shall call on Doctor Cooper 
after supper and will be at your place about eight 
o’clock.” 

So with that understanding, each went about his 
business. De Lancey went to Burn’s and secured a 
room, then he sent a messenger with a note to his 
mother, saying he would stop in town for the night 
and desiring that certain articles should be sent to 
him. Then he sat down to plan his interview with 
Pierre. 

When Pierre arrived at the coffee house, the main 
room was full of people ; but on inquiring for Mr. De 


110 A PRINCESS AND ANOTPIER 


Eancey, he was at once shown up to that gentleman’s 
room. The room was well lighted by a number of 
candles and on the table were pipes, tobacco and rum. 
It looked almost as if his host expected him to make 
a night of it. De Lancey was pale and looked wor- 
ried. He shook hands with Pierre, and then waved 
his hand toward the table. 

“ Help yourself to whatever you want,” he said, and 
then sat down. 

Pierre selected a pipe, filled it with tobacco and was 
soon puffing away. The two sat in silence for several 
minutes, then De Lancey asked after affairs in West- 
chester town, and began a desultory conversation 
about one thing after another. De Lancey seemed 
anxious to keep the talk going and so suggested a new 
subject as soon as one was exhausted. Pierre thought 
it strange that his host did not get to the subject 
about which he had expressed a desire to talk to him, 
and he was further surprised at the evident state of 
uneasiness that De Lancey seemed to be in, which 
increased as the evening wore on. At last, the Sheriff 
seemd to make up his mind with a suddenness that 
startled Pierre ; for apropos of nothing that was being 
said, he exclaimed : 

“ I want to tell you a story I heard the other day, a 
story about a family in the . . . Virginia colony; 

a family of the highest rank and of illustrious name 
and lineage, powerful in the affairs of the government. 
Many years ago this family had a servant, a woman 


CAPTAIN ROSCOE 


111 


servant, who came to them from . . . England. 

She had a child with her when she came; and though 
she was a superior woman, the child seemed to be 
still more superior. Both were very much liked by the 
family with whom they lived, in fact, I may say loved ; 
and the child grew up almost as one of the family. 
The servant married very well and the child was 
brought up in a manner above his station, unless we are 
to believe that his birth was higher than the mother’s. 
As he grew up he displayed all those instincts and 
intuitions that distinguish the gentleman — manners 
and thoughts that can only come of a long line of 
gentle blood.” 

De Lancey paused thoughtfully, and Pierre looked 
at him with breathless interest. He had grown pale 
as he recognized his own story and wondered what 
was to be the outcome. Presently, De Lancey con- 
tinued in a low tone : 

“ This planter’s family was allied by marriage 
with the best and greatest both in the colony and at 
home, with families as stainless as their own. . . . 

There remained at home a young girl, the flower of the 
family, sweet and gentle and beautiful. She and the 
servant’s son had been playmates as children ; and now 
that they were grown up, they met again. The family 
had forgotten the stain upon the young man’s birth, 
if any existed, and he became an honored and trusted 
friend. . . . Nor did he abuse the trust that was 

placed in him, , . , but Nature had her way, and 


112 a Princess and another 


these two young people loved. . . . Accident — 

God knows it was not design — betrayed their young 
hearts to each other, and they were happy.” 

He paused again and looked at Pierre. The latter 
was the picture of woe. Suddenly, Pierre covered his 
face with his hands, and a sob broke the stillness of 
the room. De Lancey’s face showed his emotion. 
He threw out his hand as if he would have comforted 
his friend, then recollected himself and continued in a 
broken voice: 

“ There was nothing against the young man except 
his doubtful birth. Inquiries were at once made of 
the only person who could solve the mystery, his 
mother — and she would say nothing. The young fel- 
low was intelligent and probably knew something of 
his own story, for such things will out in a small 
neighborhood. He was made more fully acquainted 
with the facts, so that he knew the truth as much as 
it could be known. The question for him to decide 
was this — should Love prevail, bringing a brief period 
of happiness unspeakable, perhaps, but disgrace upon 
an honorable family and contempt upon the wife and 
children ? — or should Honor prevail, bringing a period 
of misery and unhappiness, but followed by a lifetime 
of satisfaction at having done one’s duty to himself, 
to society and to God ? ” 

“ And — and — the girl ? ” cried Pierre in agonized 
tones. 

“ She knows — she knew nothing of this appeal to 
her lover.” 


CAPTAIN ROSCOE 


113 


“ But surely the mother could not see her son’s hap- 
piness destroyed or imperilled without a word ? ” 

“ She was told that his life’s happiness was at stake, 
and that of other people. She refused to say any- 
thing.” 

“ My God ! ” burst from Pierre’s lips. Then there 
was a long pause during which De Lancey watched his 
friend as he tried to regain the mastery of himself. 
At last, Pierre asked in a whisper : 

4 4 And . . . and . . . how did the young man 
decide?” 

“ I do not know ; I did not hear the end of the story.” 
He paused, and then asked very gently, “ How would 
you have decided, Pierre ? ” 

There was silence for five minutes; then Pierre 
roused himself. 

“ I — I — shall let you know to-morrow. I thank 
you for your story.” 

He staggered to his feet, took up his hat and stick 
blindly, and walked in a dazed way to the door. Here 
he seemed to recollect himself, for he turned and said, 
“ Good night,” then vanished from De Lancey’s view. 
The latter gave a sigh of relief and exclaimed as he 
reached for a drink of rum : 

“ Thank God ! that’s over — but I would rather he 
should marry Elizabeth than go through with it again.” 

Pierre staggered out into the stillness of a cool, 
autumn night, but his mind took no cognizance of his 
surroundings or of the myriads of stars overhead. 
His eyes caught the gleam of water, and unknowingly 


114 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


he turned in that direction and was soon strolling 
along the Battery. Any one meeting him would have 
thought him drunk. He still carried his hat and stick 
in his hand, and the cool breeze fanned his fevered 
brow. His face wore an expression of unutterable 
misery and his eyes were those of a person without 
reason. Suddenly, the sound of a bell fell upon his 
ear. It was from one of the ships and he counted 
three. “ Half-past nine,” he muttered mechanically. 
It did not seem possible that what he had lived in 
the last hour could have been compressed within so 
short a space of time. Gradually, as he wandered 
along, the question of his friend began to formulate 
itself in his dazed brain, “ Was Love or Honor to 
prevail ? ” A brief period of happiness and a life of 
misery; or a period of misery and a lifetime of hap — 
no, no, no — there could be no happiness for him in this 
world again. He was to decide for himself. He 
could not ask Elizabeth to help him. “My darling! 
I cannot give you up ! ” he cried in the anguish of his 
soul. He would appeal to his mother. But De Lan- 
cey said she had refused. Could he go to her and 
ask her to confess her sin to her own son? That 
would be unnatural — it was impossible. He must 
recognize at last the truth he had evaded — he was 
illegitimate and nameless. “ Great God ! ” he cried ; 
“ is it right, is it just that I should suffer for the 
sin of others ? ” How much better it would have been 
had James De Lancey let him drown that time he had 
fallen overboard. Then he would have escaped all 


CAPTAIN ROSCOE 


115 


this misery and pain ; but he would never have known 
Elizabeth and the joy of loving her and being loved. 

For hours he wandered about the streets of the city, 
meeting fewer and fewer people as the night grew on, 
until, at last, he seemed to have the city to himself 
and to be its only inhabitant. He had walked miles 
and was physically tired, but still his mind refused to 
decide the question. He had heard the church bells 
ring several times. Now a louder and longer clash 
made him pause. He could hardly count the strokes; 
but the cry of a watchman in an adjoining street, 
“ Twelve o’clock, and a cool, clear night!” brought 
him at last to a realization of the time. He was stay- 
ing with Jim Bowne aboard his sloop, and he would 
go there for the rest of the night. Mechanically he 
looked about him and found he was in Maiden Lane ; 
he turned his steps toward the East River and had 
almost reached the wharves when he saw a man stag- 
ger around a corner in front of him. Closely follow- 
ing the man were two others. They looked cautiously 
up and down the street, but did not see Pierre, who was 
in the shadow. Then they closed in upon the stag- 
gering man and one dealt him a sudden blow which 
struck him to the ground. They leaned over him and 
began to rifle his pockets; but before they had suc- 
ceeded, Pierre was upon them and had struck right 
and left with his stick, at the same time shouting, 
“ Help ! watch ! ” at the top of his voice. The two 
footpads turned upon their assailant, but his attitude 
of defense and his loud cries gave them pause; and 


116 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


after a glance at the athletic young figure, they turned 
an<J fled. Pierre gave his attention to the stricken 
man, who was unconscious. His cries had attracted 
the attention of the “ leatherheads ” and he could hear 
their rattles sounding the alarm. In a minute three of 
them came from different directions and Pierre quickly 
explained matters. Two of them at once started in 
search of the midnight marauders, while the other 
assisted Pierre in trying to restore the unconscious 
victim of the assault. They sat him up on a door- 
step, and some people who occupied the house, aroused 
by the cries, stuck their heads out of the window to 
see what was the matter. The watchman demanded 
liquor, and in a minute a half-clothed man with a 
candle in his hand opened the door and passed out a 
bottle of rum. They poured some between the man's 
lips, and in a few minutes they saw him give signs 
of returning consciousness. Pierre was leaning over 
facing him, and the light of the constable’s lantern 
fell upon Pierre’s face. The man’s eyes flickered for 
an instant then opened wide and gazed straight into 
those of Pierre. For a moment, he appeared dazed, 
then he seemed to shrink as from a blow, while an 
expression of awful fear shone in his eyes and crossed 
his face. 

“Pierre!” he cried in a terror-stricken whisper; 
“ au nom de Dieu, que vonlez-vous? Je nai pas 
V enfant ’’ 

At the same time Pierre recognized him. 


CAPTAIN ROSCOE 117 

“ How do you do now, Captain Roscoe? I see you 
remember me, Pierre Husted.” 

The terror slowly forsook the man's eyes, though 
they did not leave Pierre’s face, which seemed to fasci- 
nate the Captain. Slowly he shook himself together 
and laughed uneasily: 

“ Of course, Pierre Husted who used to help us at 
Westchester. Did someone strike me? Oh! my 
head, my head ! ” 

He put his hand to his head in pain. Then Pierre 
and the constable helped him to a pump a short dis- 
tance away; and while one held the Captain’s head 
under the spout, the other worked the handle. The 
cold water had the proper effect, and in a minute 
Captain Roscoe raised himself and cried : 

“ That’ll do, lads ; I’m better now. I remember 
leaving the tavern. Somebody must have followed 
me, as I was foolish enough to show a well-filled 
wallet. And you came to my rescue, Pierre? I’m 
sure I’m much obliged. Now if you will help me to 
my ship and stay the night with me, you will con- 
fer another favor on me. It’s late, and I can give 
you good quarters.” 

He led the way, and Pierre joined him. When- 
ever they passed a lamp with its flickering light, the 
Captain would gaze at Pierre in a curious way, which 
was also a stealthy way, and gave Pierre a feeling as if 
he were being examined and studied. At last, they 
reached Coenties Slip and the Captain guided the way 


118 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


aboard a good-sized brig that was lying there. A 
sailor came to the gangway to see who the visitors 
were, but he recognized his Captain, and at his order,, 
led the way to the cabin where he lighted some candles. 
Captain Roscoe ushered Pierre in and produced some 
rum. The action of the last half hour had restored 
Pierre to his ordinary appearance, and he had lost 
the tired look of misery. Again he was conscious of 
being studied by the Captain. The scrutiny made him 
uneasy, and so, after taking a pannikin of rum, he 
complained of being dead tired and proposed turning 
in. Roscoe was quick to comply with his request and 
showed him into a comfortable cabin and bade him 
good night. As Pierre undressed he thought almost 
unconsciously of his meeting with the Captain; but 
his mind was too dulled by what he had gone through 
to give it any sustained attention. He tumbled into 
his berth, and fell almost immediately into a heavy 
sleep, the sleep of utter mental and physical exhaus- 
tion. His last conscious thought was of the Cap- 
tain’s exclamation upon recognizing him : 

“ In the name of God , what do you want? . . I haven’t 
the child ” 


CHAPTER IX 


the captain's proposition 

When Pierre awoke in the morning* his first thought 
was again the Captain's exclamation; but his senses 
being more fully roused, he remembered with a touch 
of curiosity the abject terror of the Captain at the 
recognition; but his vague wondering was suddenly 
driven away by the sharp recollection of his interview 
with De Lancey and he was plunged once more into 
his vacillating state of misery. Presently he heard 
the Captain moving about, and in a few minutes he 
was summoned to breakfast. He found the skip- 
per had fully recovered from his condition of the pre- 
vious night; and as upon the first occasion of their 
meeting many years ago, Pierre was impressed by the 
gentlemanly language and manners of the man. 

“ Ah ! the top o' the mornin’ to ye, Pierre, as we say 
in old Ireland. I trust you slept well and are ready 
for your breakfast. A wee drap o’ the crater before 
you sit down. No? A very sensible conclusion, sir; 
for I hold that drink on an empty stomach will ruin 
a man, physically, mentally and morally. Tom, serve 
the breakfast, and be sure Mr. Husted’s coffee is fresh 
and strong. I brought with me from the Brazils some 
extra fine coffee this trip, but my rascally cook is 
119 


120 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


inclined to spoil it if not warned. I got the receipt for 
making coffee from Dom Pedro Patallo the last time 
I was at Brazos. He used to serve most delicious 
coffee, but it seems almost impossible to get any 
ordinary ship’s cook to follow directions. They grow 
careless and do it by guesswork. Imagine the master 
of a ship working his navigation by guess ; and I hold, 
sir, that a cook’s work is equally scientific. Ah ! here’s 
the breakfast: fried blue-fish, bacon and eggs. Help 
yourself, sir, and do justice to my cook. You must 
know, sir, that I have a Frenchman’s taste for dainty 
cooking, and I train my cooks to my way of thinking ; 
but they no sooner learn all I can teach them than 
they skip ashore and open taverns where they become 
famous for their cuisine. There is a string of my 
ex-cooks along this coast from Halifax to Charleston, 
and every damned rascal of them all making money, 
while I, their teacher, am still poor. ’Tis frequently 
the way, Pierre, that the pupil becomes more success- 
ful than his schoolmaster. Is not that an excellent 
cup of coffee? I am glad you like it, sir; for I hold 
that coffee is the breakfast drink for this side of the 
world, where we have such glorious, clear air. Eet 
your Englishman stick to his tea; he needs it in his 
moist and foggy climate.” 

Pierre found the breakfast excellent, well deserving 
the praises that his host bestowed upon it. The Cap- 
tain kept up a steady stream of conversation, touching 
upon a hundred different subjects and making shrewd 
and often quaint comments upon them all. Yet Pierre 


THE CAPTAIN’S PROPOSITION 121 


felt that he was being studied, but not in so bold a 
way as on the night before. With the easy manner 
of the man of the world, Roscoe finally brought the 
conversation around to Pierre’s own doings since they 
had last parted. 

“We had some good times in those days, Pierre. 
The contraband isn’t a bad trade — there is just enough 
risk in it to make it exciting; and then there’s the 
pleasure of outwitting the revenue officers. I think 
most men are happy when they are getting the better 
of their fellow-men. Take the delight of your respect- 
able merchant when he drives a sharp bargain. We 
all prey upon each other, and the weakest goes under. 
It’s so in all nature — the big fish eat the little ones. 
Yet with all my knowledge and philosophy, I’m afraid 
I’ve always been one of the little fishes.” 

He laughed as he acknowledged his failure in life; 
and his laugh was so rollicking and catching that 
Pierre had joined in a number of times. Of course, 
when Pierre described his own life, he did not tell of 
his love episode with Elizabeth De Lancey, but the 
Captain guessed there was something to account for 
his depression. In the course of the conversation, the 
Captain remarked upon Pierre’s personal appearance. 

“ It’s extraordinary, Pierre, what a variety of types 
one finds in this new country ; but one ought to expect 
that when we remember where the settlers come from 
to make up the population of this Province. There’s 
the original Dutch stock, the English, the Scotch, the 
Palatines, the Germans, the French Huguenots at New 


122 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


Rochelle and so on. Now you, yourself, though 
English, haven’t the English appearance. Perhaps, 
as you live in Westchester, there may have been some 
French ancestor from New Rochelle.” 

“ No; my mother is French by birth.” 

“ Yes; from what part of France? ” The question 
was asked with apparent carelessness, but to a close 
observer there would have appeared a covert eager- 
ness on the Captain’s part. The mention of his mother 
brought up to Pierre that mother’s sin, and he sat 
looking dreamily out of one of the port-holes. 

“ I do not know. Her name was Denise Chantier 
before she married my father. If you are acquainted 
with France, perhaps you can determine the locality 
from the name.” 

At the mention of the name, Roscoe had drawn back 
suddenly from the table and clinched his hands. He 
cast a keen, almost an appalled, glance at Pierre and 
betrayed his emotion by a quick breath so sharply in- 
drawn as to produce a hissing sound. Pierre looked 
up quickly and was surprised at the expression in his 
host’s face; but before he could remark upon it, Ros- 
coe had begun to rub the back of his head. 

“ Excuse me, Pierre, for interrupting ; but that fel- 
low must have struck me harder last night than I had 
thought. I just had a devilish twinge of pain that 
took my breath away.” 

He reached out a trembling hand for his cup, fin- 
ished his coffee and pushed his chair back from the 
table. 


THE CAPTAIN’S PROPOSITION 123 

“ If you have finished your breakfast, let us go on 
deck.” 

He led the way up the cabin stairs, produced some 
black cigars and invited Pierre to join him in a smoke. 
Pierre looked about while the Captain went forward to 
give some orders to his mates. The brig was a fine 
vessel in splendid condition and reflected upon the 
ability of her Captain. The crew was now engaged 
under the direction of the two mates in hoisting on 
board and stowing her cargo. A young man came 
down the wharf carrying some account books under 
his arm, and the Captain went out on the wharf to 
speak with him. In a few minutes, Pierre noticed 
that the young man turned in his direction and looked 
him over ; and it was evident that the two were talking 
about him during the rest of their conversation. 

Ever since he had risen, there had been with him a 
dull sense of misery which even the Captain’s conver- 
sation had not been able to destroy. Now that he was 
alone once more, the problem he had to solve forced 
itself upon him. He began again to weigh the two 
sides of the question he had to answer. Though he 
had studied logic at the college, his major and minor 
premises could bring him to no conclusion. “ If I 
could only find someone to show me,” he thought in 
despair; and at that moment the Captain turned and 
pointed to the forward part of his ship as he said some- 
thing to the young man who was still talking with 
him on the wharf. It came to him like a flash that 
here was one who could help. The Captain was old 


124 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


enough to be his father; he was a gentleman and a 
man of education ; he knew the world and he had dis- 
played a kindly interest in himself. Suppose he were 
to ask the Captain and let him decide ? The very idea 
was a relief to him, and he waited impatiently till the 
Captain was through. At last, the Captain made some 
remark, and the clerk went away up the wharf in a fit 
of laughter, while the Captain returned to the ship. 

“ So'rry to have left you so long alone, Pierre ; but 
Pve been talking with David Plumphreys. He’s clerk 
for my owner, Colonel Philipse of the Yonkers. Like 
yourself, he’s a college man — Yale in New Haven, 
where he hails from. Hope you didn’t get tired wait- 
ing; but it was a matter of business.” 

“ No, Captain, I’m not tired ; but I’ve been thinking. 
I want you to decide a question for me. It is not one 
into which I can go very fully; but it concerns — a — 
very dear — friend of mine, who asked for — my opinion 
last night. I do not know that I am at liberty to say 
anything more than that — it’s a question between love 
and — honor.” 

“ A woman’s honor ? Then by God ! there is only 
one course.” 

“ No, no, Captain. There is no question of a 
woman’s honor at all. The question relates entirely to 
the man. Should he cling to the woman he loves and 
who loves him ; or should he for certain family reasons 
which prevent a union of these — lovers, withdraw ? ” 

“ It’s a very easy matter for your moralists to say, 


THE CAPTAIN’S PROPOSITION 125 

Honor, of course, ’ ” responded Roscoe. “ They can 
answer it offhand for other people damned quick; but 
they cannot always answer it properly for themselves.” 

He looked at Pierre rather ruefully and saw in the 
young man’s expression that he was vitally interested. 
His better nature prompted him to speak as he saw the 
young man wanted him to; but suddenly there arose 
before him a train of recollections of which the young 
fellow knew nothing; and the recollections hardened 
him. He gave no indication of this, but said lightly : 

“ Master Pierre, you come to a bad shop to get your 
answer. I’m half Irish and half French ; and the good 
Lord created those two peoples to spend their time in 
making love. Love before everything, guides them. 
I’ve knocked about the world a good bit in my time, 
and I’ve discovered that there are other things than 
love. I’ve been in love a hundred times myself, and 
I’ve found you can -recover from the disease without 
much trouble. But Honor ! lose your honor and 
you’re a lost man beyond hopes of recovery. It’s fine 
to hear James Roscoe preaching — but I know” 

His last words were bitterly spoken. He turned 
upon his heel so that he did not see the anguish in the 
face of his hearer. He stood with one foot on the 
rail looking out upon the East River for several min- 
utes, deep in thought. When he turned and looked 
into Pierre’s face, he saw there a great despair and a 
great determination. 

“ I must be going now, Captain. I thank you very 


126 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


much for your hospitality and for your — answer to my 
question. I hope we shall meet again.” 

“ Gad ! and is it thanking me for my hospitality, you 
are ? It seems to me that the debt is on the other side ; 
for if it had not been for you, I’d have had an empty 
wallet as well as a cracked head. And another thing, 
my lad. Come back and dine with me at noon, and 
I think I’ll have a proposition to make to you that will 
be to our mutual advantage.” 

Pierre left the brig and went to see several mer- 
chants to whom his father sent his produce. With 
them he went to Bowne’s sloop and disposed of his 
freight, but he still had a little time on his hands before 
he was to dine with Roscoe. He strolled through the 
streets and at last found himself in a small lane west 
of Broadway, leading down to the Hudson, and with 
very few houses on it, and these were of a mean char- 
acter. One of them was a carpenter shop ; and as he 
came near it, he was surprised to see a number of peo- 
ple emerge from it and after looking cautiously about, 
separate and go in different directions, some across the 
fields, some toward the river, and a few toward Broad- 
way. Most of them were women, and there could not 
have been more than fifteen in all. They had all dis- 
appeared, and Pierre was wondering what had brought 
so many people together in so small a shop, when the 
door opened once more and a tall man emerged who 
looked carefully about him. At sight of Pierre, he 
would have returned to the shop; but he seemed to 
recognize the young man, and at once stepped in his 


THE CAPTAIN'S PROPOSITION 127 

direction. Pierre was astonished to see Father 
Farmer; at the same instant it flashed upon him that 
this must be the meeting place of the New York 
Catholics. 

“ I did not expect to find you in this vicinity again, 
sir,” he said. 

“ ’Tis dangerous, I know, Mr. Husted; but what 
will you? I have no fear of you. You have shown 
yourself my friend on too many occasions. Ulti- 
mately, I presume I shall fall into the hands of the 
law; but I shall have the consolation of knowing I 
have done my duty to my people, to my church, and 
to God. Men prate of the honor of the gentleman 
and of the soldier, but we who are ministers of God 
have a higher sense of honor than these; for we see 
our duty clearly and do it without regard to our per- 
sonal feelings or comfort.” 

There was an air of exaltation about the priest, com- 
ing from the exercise of his religion, that conveyed 
itself to Pierre ; and the priest’s words were peculiarly 
timely to him at this moment when he, himself, was 
sacrificing his love and his happiness, and that of a 
dearer one still on the altar of duty. The lofty mood 
was still on the priest as they walked together down to 
the river, where a small boat was waiting. The priest 
stepped in, and raised his hand. Pierre bowed his 
head. 

“ God bless and keep thee and protect thee from 
harm.” He waved his hand in farewell ; the boatman 
rowed away, and Pierre stood watching him until he 


128 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


had almost reached the Jersey shore. Then he faced 
about and went slowly and thoughtfully, with a feel- 
ing of peace and rest that he had not felt for hours, to 
find James De Lancey. 

Upon inquiry, Pierre learned that the Sheriff was 
still at Burn’s coffee house. He sent a servant to an- 
nounce him, and then followed to the room where he 
had passed such an agonizing hour the night before. 
De Lancey looked at him curiously as he entered ; but 
there was something in the air of Pierre that made 
De Lancey draw a breath of satisfaction. He mo- 
tioned to a chair, but Pierre declined to sit. 

“ Mr. James,” he said, “ I have thought carefully 
of all you said last night, and I have concluded that 
the only thing for the young man of whom you told 
me to do was to give up the young lady. However 
much sorrow it might be to the lovers, there would 
have been more for those connected with them, if they 
had persisted in their love. Their love would have 
been based on selfishness; and they would have been 
unhappy.” 

De Lancey noticed that Pierre spoke as if his decision 
had been reached after consultation with Elizabeth, 
and as if it were a renunciation by them both, instead 
of by himself alone. The young fellow choked over 
his last words, as if he had reasoned himself into be- 
lieving them, though his heart resented their untruth 
the moment he gave them utterance. The Sheriff 
shook Pierre by the hand. 

“ God bless you ? Pierre. 


You have decided as I 


THE CAPTAIN’S PROPOSITION 129 


knew you would, but I am almost as unhappy as you ; 
and as for the girl, God only knows how she will 
take it.” 

“ May I write to her ? ” Pierre asked piteously. 

“ Of course. And remember, if you ever need a 
friend, call upon James De Tancey.” 

Pierre wrung his friend’s hand and left the room. 
He glanced at the coffee-room clock as he passed 
through and saw he had but twenty minutes to reach 
the brig. When he arrived there, he found the Cap- 
tain on the lookout for him. They went below to the 
cabin, where dinner was served at once. The two 
mates were their companions at dinner and Pierre was 
introduced to them. One was a phlegmatic Dutchman 
named Block, from the Philipseburg Manor, the other, 
a young Irishman named Barry. The Dutchman was 
a man of middle age and he acknowledged the intro- 
duction by saying : 

“ I’m glat to have the honor of knowing you, Mr. 
Husted. My name iss Adrien Block, the same as my 
ancestor, the famous navigator, of whom, no doubt, 
you have heard.” 

While he was saying it, the second mate gave Pierre 
a look out of the corner of his eye, a look of such 
drollery that Pierre could hardly keep a straight face. 

“ Yes, I have heard of him, Mr. Block. I trust that 
his descendant takes after him as a worthy man and 
seaman.” 

“ You may be sure of that, Mr. Husted,” said Barry 
with a touch of brogue that was delightful. “If our 


130 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


friend here had been his own ancestor, that ancestor 
would never have been heard of.” 

“ Ah, Parry, you are inclint to flatter me ; put I 
know you, you rogue. You vill vant me to stay abort 
ship to-night, vile you go ashore to see some sveet- 
heart. He hass more sveethearts, Mr. Husted, tan any 
man I efer ran acrost ; he hass not vone, put a tozen in 
effery port.” 

Block shook his finger at Barry and laughed a slow 
chuckle that set them all off into peals of laughter. It 
was the most remarkable exhibition that Pierre had 
ever seen in the way of merriment. Block’s face and 
eyes were as inexpressive of amusement at it was 
possible for anything to be, in fact, they were wooden 
while this deep, low chuckle issued from his mouth. 
Pierre was reminded of a ventriloquist he had once 
heard at the fair at Westchester. Everything about 
Block was slow, even his eating, but he managed to 
stow away more food than Pierre thought it was pos- ■ 
sible for a human being to consume. Barry was a 
slight, handsome fellow, a little under average height, ' 
but as quick and active in his motions as his fellow 
mate was slow. He made a butt of Block in an easy, 
good-natured way ; but it was evident they were good 
friends and that the elder man had a strong affection 
for the younger. The Captain produced a bottle of 
good wine, and the dinner passed in such merry fash- 
ion that Pierre was taken away completely from his 
depressed state. The two mates lighted their pipes 
and went on deck to resume their duties; and then 


THE CAPTAIN’S PROPOSITION 131 

Captain Roscoe pushed the bottle toward Pierre and 
said : 

< “ This morning you gave me to understand that 

you had not yet decided upon what you should do, but 
that it was your intention to become a merchant, and 
that as soon as your farm work was over, you would 
look for an opening. David Humphreys told me this 
morning that our supercargo is sick with smallpox, 
and would not recover in time to go on this voyage. 
We sail in four days if all goes well. I asked if 
Colonel Philipse had yet selected any one to take 
Brown’s place, and learned he had not. I at once 
thought of you; and after you left I went to see the 
Colonel, who is down from his place at the Manor, to 
speak a word for you. The Colonel would like to see 
you personally, and I made an engagement with him 
for two o’clock. Do you think you would like the 
place?” 

“ Captain Roscoe, you overwhelm me with kindness. 
It is an opportunity that I could have looked for in 
vain by myself. Of course, I shall have to consult my 
parents; but I have no doubt that they will consent 
gladly to my going. Such an opening does not occur 
every day.” 

“ Well ! then, let’s go see the Colonel. It’s about 
two o’clock, and these great people do not like to be 
kept waiting.” 

While they were on the way to the office, Pierre 
could not help but feel that this offer was especially 
opportune. He had decided to give up Elizabeth ; but 


132 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


what a constant source of sorrow and unhappiness it 
would have been to know that they were breathing the 
same air, yet could not be anything but strangers to 
each other. Then there was the danger of their meet- 
ing. He could not risk that. He felt that if he saw 
her, his resolution would melt away like snow before 
the sun. No, it was better, much better that he should 
go away. For himself, with the egotism of youth, he 
felt that he would never cease to love her; but now 
that they were to be parted irrevocably, he hoped — at 
least, he told himself, he hoped — she would call her 
pride to her aid and that she would forget him. It 
was better so. This chance seemed offered by Provi- 
dence as a salve to his wounded heart, a chance he 
could not neglect. 

Upon arriving at the warehouse, they were ushered 
at once into the presence of Colonel Philipse, the 
wealthiest man in the Province, as well as one of the 
greatest landowners and merchants. 

“ Colonel, this is Mr. Husted of whom I spoke to 
you this morning.” 

“ How d’ye do, Mr. Husted. Roscoe tells me you 
are a graduate of King’s, and that you live in West- 
chester. Have you had any experience as a super- 
cargo? Ah! so I understood. Well, sir, you are like 
an apprentice and will have to deposit a hundred 
pounds for your indenture.” 

“ That can be done, sir.” 

“ I’m glad to hear it. Of course, you will be paid 
besides, and you are found in food, and devilish good 


THE CAPTAIN'S PROPOSITION 133 

food, too, if you sail with Roscoe. I've eaten aboard 
his ship; and gad! sir, I believe he could serve an 
epicurean feast out of a side of sole leather." 

The great man laughed at his own joke, and the two 
smiled with him. He was near-sighted and he came 
near to have a look at Pierre. 

“ I like your looks, sir. Have you anybody to vouch 
for you? ” 

“ Doctor Cooper and Sheriff De Lancey will do 
that, sir." 

“ Good again ; both friends of mine. You think 
your father will consent to your going — you are not 
yet of age ? Where did you say he lived ? " 

“ Westchester Borough Town, sir." 

“ Oh ! Tenant of the De Lanceys or the Morrises ? " 

“ Neither, sir. He owns his own farm on Castle 
Hill Neck in fee." 

The Colonel came near again and appeared puzzled 
for a moment. 

“ Where have I seen you before? " 

“ Five or six years ago I carried contraband to the 
manor-house." 

“ I remember." Again he took a squint at Pierre. 
“ I’ve seen you elsewhere. I know now. You were 
at the wedding of Anna De Vries, and I’ve seen you 
at other places. Why, sir, you're a gentleman.” His 
tone was not supercilious in the least ; it was as if he 
recognized Pierre as an equal. Then, after a pause, 
he chuckled, “ Gad ! what are we coming to on our 
ships? The Saucy Polly is well officered. Three gen- 


134 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


tlemen, Roscoe, Barry and Husted, and old Block con- 
siders himself one, too.” 

“ He is one, Colonel, and a fine sailor besides/’ 

“ I’m glad to hear it, Roscoe. Now, Mr. Husted, 
this is Tuesday. The Polly sails Saturday. Can you 
be ready in time ? ” 

“ Yes, sir. I will go to Westchester this afternoon 
on the sloop, and will return to-morrow. That will 
give me three days to learn something about the cargo 
and accounts.” 

“ Very good. Good afternoon, gentlemen.” He 
shook hands with them both, and they bowed them- 
selves out. 


CHAPTER X 


MIXED MOTIVES 

When Pierre reached the sloop, Bowne was already 
preparing to get under way. 

: “ I’d 'most given you up, Peer, w'en I see you 

a-comin’ down th’ street. Lend a hand with these 
t’roat haulyards. There, that's good — belay. Now, 
let's get up th' peak. Cast off there, Tom,'' he called 
to his single helper ; and in a few minutes the sloop was 
clear of the dock and on the broad bosom of the East 
River. The tide was running with them, and, though 
the breeze was light, the sloop drifted through Hell 
Gate, and once out of the turmoil of that dangerous 
passage, made about four knots during the rest of her 
trip. It was about seven o'clock when she entered 
the mouth of Westchester creek, and Pierre was landed 
abreast of his father's house, arriving there about 
eight. The family was gathered in the kitchen of the 
house, with its great open fireplace, flanked by its 
Dutch ovens. William Husted was reading Riving- 
ton’s New York Gazette , his wife was busy over the 
mending of the family, and the children were busy 
over their schoolbooks, which had done service for 
Pierre, as well as for each child in turn. Two candles 
furnished the illumination for the apartment, and the 
135 


136 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


covered-up embers of the fire still emitted their heat 
and made the room almost unpleasantly warm. Denise 
Husted greeted her son with a gentle smile as he 
kissed her; his father looked over his paper with a 
nod of welcome. 

“ We had almost given thee up, Pierre, and thought 
thou hadst stayed another night, perhaps, with thy 
friend, Doctor Cooper. Thou must be hungry.” 

Upon Pierre's entrance, his mother had nodded to 
Sarah, the older girl; and she had gone to a cup- 
board and now cleared one end of the table and placed 
there a generous supper of cold meat, bread, butter, 
milk and pie. She was a slender girl of about fifteen, 
giving indications that she had inherited her mother's 
delicate beauty, but shy and reserved. Pierre kissed 
her and thanked her for her trouble, and then sat 
down to his meal. The parents exchanged a glance 
and smiled into each other’s eyes ; they were evidently 
proud of this gentlemanly, handsome, well-educated 
son. 

“ And what is the news in the city, Pierre? I trust 
thou didst well with the produce, for thy mother and 
sister desire new dresses for their best. 'Tis a pity I 
have never been able to make a Friend of thy mother ; 
'twould have been much more economical in the mat- 
ter of dress.” 

Pierre looked up with a smile, for well he knew, as 
did Denise, herself, that William Husted was a back- 
slider in his faith so far as simplicity of dress for his 
women- folk was concerned; and that Denise, dressed 


MIXED MOTIVES 


137 


in her best frock, looking as well as any of the great 
ladies of the vicinity, was an object of delight in his 
father’s eyes. The love which had waited five years 
for its object had only increased with the years; and 
though William Husted had reached middle age he 
still felt a passionate love and admiration for his wife — 
a feeling she reciprocated to an equal degree. 

“ Yes, sir ; I think I have done well. I have brought 
back nearly ten pounds, and Mr. Coster says he will 
take all the apples you can send him at a shilling a 
bushel. He says he knows Friend Husted’s apples, 
no big ones on top and little ones at the bottom, but 
the same all through.” 

“ ’Tis only a practical application of the Golden 
Rtile,” said Husted simply. “ And whom hast thou 
seen ? Doctor Cooper, doubtless ? ” 

“Yes, sir; and Sheriff De Eancey.” There was a 
moment’s hesitation, and a look of pain showed in his 
face. “ I also had an interview with Colonel Philipse, 
and I have an opportunity to begin my business career 
with him.” 

By this time, Pierre had finished his supper, and 
Sarah was putting away the things. As he told his 
story of the midnight meeting with Captain Roscoe, 
and the subsequent events, she stopped to listen; and 
when he spoke of going away for a year or more, she 
put her arm affectionately about his shoulder. He 
looked up with a smile and took her hand in his. It 
was a small, well-shaped hand, but slightly roughened 
by her work. When he had finished his story, there 


138 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


was silence for several moments, during which his 
thoughts went back almost unconsciously to his inter- 
view with De Lancey and the question whether he 
could not ask his mother about his birth ; but when 
he glanced across at her and saw the look of loving 
anxiety she bent upon him, his heart sank and he said 
to himself, “ No, it is impossible/’ All eyes were bent 
on William Husted to await his decision. 

“ Rad,” he said, after a pause of meditation, “ I 
think it will be good for thee to go. Thou hast been 
a great help to me, but thou art not cut out for a 
farmer. Thou hast my consent, and I think we can 
find the money for thee.” He looked across to his 
wife, who nodded assent. 

Late as it was, Pierre’s wardrobe was at once ran- 
sacked and the packing begun. On the following 
morning he went in the sloop, and about ten o’clock 
reported at the office of Colonel Philipse. That gen- 
tleman greeted him kindly and inquired whether he 
was ready to begin his duties. 

“ Doctor Cooper and Mr. De Lancey both speak of 
you, Mr. Husted, in such complimentary terms that I 
feel I have made no mistake in engaging you. David,” 
he called, whereupon his clerk entered, “ this is Mr. 
Pierre Husted who is going out as supercargo in the 
Saucy Polly. In the few days before she sails, I want 
you to teach him all you can about the necessary 
accounts. If he is as intelligent as his friends say 
he is, he will take hold readily.” 

A little later the two young men had occasion to 


139 


MIXED MOTIVES 

visit the brig, and Roscoe expressed his pleasure at 
having secured the position for Pierre and insisted 
upon the latter at once taking up his quarters upon 
the vessel. These were busy days with Pierre, and 
he felt that it was good that they were so, for he had 
little time to give to the pain that was gnawing in his 
heart. It was at night, when he lay looking at the 
close quarters of his cabin that he cried upon his lost 
love and his shattered hopes and desires ; but except for 
an unwonted paleness and seriousness, his mental dis- 
tress gave no outward sign. 

Roscoe was the only one that seemed to observe 
Pierre closely. In their intercourse, he was always 
kindly, thoughtful and helpful; but if any one had 
noticed him when he was, so to say, off his guard, he 
would have noticed in Roscoe’s eyes an expression of 
commingled envy, jealousy and hate ; and often, as he 
watched Pierre going up the wharf, there would come 
into his eyes a look of triumph and he would turn away 
to conceal his smile of joy. 

“ He is under me now,” he would mutter to him- 
self ; “I have him for a year at least, and I can make 
him or mar him. Is it possible that after all these 
years I am going to taste the sweetness of revenge? 
Mother ! ” and he would raise his eyes to heaven, 
while his face would soften, “ look down upon me, dear 
mother, from your place in heaven and bless your son 
and help him on his way to his and your revenge.” ^ 

Then he would cross himself covertly and mutter 
some prayer under his breath; some prayer that he 


140 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


had learned in his boyhood’s days, perhaps. And 
Pierre went on, unconscious of this man’s real feeling 
for him, but thanking him daily for his interest and 
kindness, and growing to like him more and more. 

On Friday, William Husted came to the city on the 
sloop and brought with him the rest of Pierre’s ward- 
robe, with which Denise and Sarah had been busy 
since his own departure. And he brought, too, mes- 
sages of love and good wishes from those two women ; 
messages at which Pierre’s eyes grew dim. The same 
evening James De Lancey came to say good-bye; and 
when he left, Pierre placed in his hands a letter which 
had taken him many an hour and many a heartbreak 
to compose. De Lancey read the mute inquiry in 
Pierre’s eyes. 

“ She is happy and knows nothing as yet,” he said 
huskily; “ and I shall see that your letter is received; 
I will give it to her myself. God bless you, Pierre; 
nothing that James De Lancey can do will ever repay 
you for your consideration; yet, I wish it could have 
been otherwise.” 

The next morning Colonel Philipse and his staff 
from the office came down to the wharf to bid good 
luck to the ship. Slowly she was warped out into the 
stream, her sails were sheeted home; and as they 
caught the gentle breeze, the Saucy Polly gathered 
steerage-way and began her voyage to the sea. 

At the same time, at the De Lancey home, the Sher- 
iff was giving to Elizabeth Pierre’s letter. He had 
made his mother acquainted with the circumstances; 


MIXED MOTIVES 141 

and that mother looked anxiously and tenderly at her 
daughter. 

“ A letter from Pierre Husted which he asked me to 
deliver to you, sister,” said the Sheriff. Elizabeth 
blushed and looked up with sparkling eyes to receive 
the letter; but something in her brother’s tone caused 
her to look at him, and the seriousness and sympathy 
she saw in his face made her heart sink even in the 
joy she felt at hearing from her lover. She gazed at 
her brother as he left the room, and so perplexed was 
she at his manner that she sat for fully a minute think- 
ing of it before opening her precious letter. Her 
cheeks flamed and her eyes sparkled with anticipation 
as she did so. 

"On board the Saucy Polly, 

New York, Oct r . y c 18th, 1772. 

To Mistress Eliz th De Lancey, 
by y e Hand of J. De Lancey, Es qr . 

Dear Madam; 

I write you these few lines to inform you that I have taken 
the Posit n of Super-cargo on y c above Vessel, & that we sail 
this Morn g for a voyage to y e West Indies & S. America. We 
shall prob ly bee gone for a y r or more. I thought you might 
like to know about my having secured this fine Open g in my 
Career as a Merch* for the Sake of our old Acquaintce. Coll. 
Philippse has been very kind to give me the Place & Cap 1 Ros- 
coe has shewn himself to bee my Friend. 

Since I last had the Honor of see g you, I have learned some- 
thing about my Birth & I find I cannot in Honor ask any woman 
of Fam ly to unite herself to me— it w d make too many others 
unhappy & I w d make my Wife unhappy, too & rather than 
do that, I w d sacrifice my own Love & Hope. 

Elizabeth, Elizabeth, my sweet, dear love, do you not know 
that it breaks my Heart to write thus to you, that before me 


142 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


streaches a life full of Misery & Loneliness when I think of 
liv g without you. God knows I w d not have come to this 
Decision had there been any way out; but, alas! my dear, 
there is none. I shall love you always & I pray for your Happi- 
ness with some other of your own Rank, whose birth is stain- 
less. That you may Forgive me & Forget me is the Pray 1 of 
Y r heart-broken & humble Servant, 

Pierre Husted.” 

As Elizabeth read, the color died from her cheeks 
and the sparkle from her eyes. When she had finished, 
she sat for a moment in pained wonder. The shock 
was so sudden that she did not grasp it at first; but 
there was a pain in her breast which made it difficult 
to breathe. She read the letter a second time, and, 
notwithstanding her misery, she could picture her 
lover carefully holding down his feelings as he wrote 
to her; then, his emotion becoming too great for his 
will and his pouring his heart out to her. At last she 
realized what the letter meant — that her dream of love 
was over. With a wild cry of love and longing, she 
sprang to her feet and threw herself upon a lounge. 
The letter was clasped in her hands and she burst into 
a fit of weeping. “ Pierre, Pierre, my love ! ” she 
moaned. And then her brother entered the room and 
raised her gently in his arms. 

“ James, James, my heart is broken,” she cried. 
“ Do you know ? ” 

He nodded his head; and then half leading, half 
carrying her, took her to her room and laid her upon 
her bed, leaving her to the care of his mother. 


MIXED MOTIVES 


143 


On board the Saucy Polly all was going well. She 
was carrying as passengers to one of the West India 
ports an elderly couple and their daughter, a lady of 
about thirty ; and in his attention to these people and to 
his new duties, Pierre had little time for thought. 
With Barry, he had struck up a strong friendship, and 
he found the young Irishman not only amusing but 
instructive, for Barry was a younger son of an Irish 
gentleman, whose family was more numerous than 
the shillings to support it. Barry had had one year 
at Trinity College, but being of a frolicsome dis- 
position had gotten into trouble with the authorities 
of the college and rather than return home had taken 
to the sea. Occupation is the surest cure for grief ; and 
as everything was so new to Pierre: the sea itself, 
the routine of the vessel, the going from port to port, 
the making out of the manifests, the occasional pas- 
sengers, the scenes of tropic splendor, the storms, the 
driving of bargains, that as the months went by, his 
loss of Elizabeth became less poignant. He was young 
and healthy, and his new life aroused new interests to 
the exclusion of the old. He was gaining new experi- 
ences, knowing new people ; and his horizon was 
widening. He was not fickle or inconstant; but as 
time passed, he looked back upon his lost love as an 
irreparable fact, something inevitable which must be 
accepted. 

Captain Roscoe still displayed the same friendly 
interest, and closer companionship only strengthened 
the gratitude and affection with which Pierre regarded 


144 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


him. Roscoe was a fine sailor and his ship could have 
served as a model. He had no difficulty with his 
men, and they were cheerful and obedient,' for he saw 
that they were well fed and well taken care of. On 
several occasions, when in the company of other ship- 
masters, Pierre had heard them take him to task for 
coddling his crew. 

“ Damme, sir,” he would shout indignantly, “ if 
you had a horse or other animals, wouldn’t you feed 
’em and take good care of ’em to get the best work 
out of ’em? Well, by God ! why not with your sailor- 
men? Sure, they’re something better than animals; 
they’re men like ourselves, with immortal souls, even 
if they do live in the fo’castle. It’s you people that 
have risen from the fo’castle that are so hard on your 
men; you hate to see a gentleman like myself, who 
never was a common sailor, treat his crew like human 
beings.” 

Pierre at first feared that his outspoken Captain 
would get into trouble, but there was something about 
Roscoe that deterred his hearers from resenting his 
remarks. In fact, they took delight in stirring him 
up when he had liquor in him; and Pierre was sorry 
to see that “ Gentleman ” Roscoe, as his fellow Cap- 
tains had named him, very frequently had liquor in 
him. In Pierre’s eyes, this seemed to be the one blem- 
ish upon his friend. He had spoken of it to Barry 
the first time he had noticed it, and Barry had laughed 
and had then grown serious. 


MIXED MOTIVES 


145 


“ Husted,” he had said, “ ’tis an old story with me; 
but to-day I noticed something new. The Captain 
tried his utmost to get you to join him, something I 
have never known him to do before with a young man. 
And Husted, there was a look in his eyes when he 
asked you to join him that I didn’t like, a cunning 
look, as if he had something against you in his soul. 
Take my advice and let the liquor alone.” 

Pierre thanked him ; but he could not hide his aston- 
ishment at Barry’s remark about the Captain’s not 
liking him. He took heed of Barry’s caution; and 
having been put on his guard, he watched the Captain 
on several occasions, and when he declined to drink 
with Roscoe, noticed a sudden fierce gleam in the 
glance the Captain bestowed upon him. Pierre’s life 
had heretofore been clean so far as women were con- 
cerned; but in this warm, easy, languid, tropical air 
it seemed natural to be immoral. In several ports, the 
Captain had led him into places that had only aroused 
Pierre’s disgust; and the Captain had laughed at him 
for his prudery, but Pierre had stood firm against the 
wiles of women. His worst temptation came at King- 
ston, where Roscoe invited him to accompany him to 
call upon the widow of an old friend of his. The 
house was situated in a grove of orange trees, and was 
quiet and furnished in good taste. The widow proved 
to be an attractive woman of thirty-five with a daugh- 
ter of seventeen, a lovely, innocent English creole ; at 
least, that is how she impressed Pierre. They were 


146 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


introduced to him as Madam and Miss Carter. After 
a few minutes spent in general conversation, the Cap- 
tain and the widow withdrew. As they did so, Ros- 
coe turned and with a significant look at the young 
girl, said : 

“ I leave Husted’s entertainment to you, Lola. 
Make it pleasant for him. Your mother and I have 
some business to talk over.” 

The young girl laughed and said she would do her 
best to entertain Mr. Husted. She was a bright girl, 
well informed, and she got Pierre to talking about him- 
self, a topic which is generally the most interesting to 
the majority of men. As he progressed, she began to 
show great interest, watching him closely, her beauti- 
ful eyes looking into his with a glance which was ten- 
der. Then she offered to sing for him, and she was 
a vision of loveliness as she played upon her guitar 
and sang love songs in English, French and Spanish. 
The French words were a little risque, and made Pierre 
blush; but she sang them with such charming inno- 
cence that he came to the conclusion that she did not 
understand all they implied. Her last song was in 
Spanish, a language he did not know ; but that it was 
a love song he surmised from the way her eyes looked 
into his with a fire that stirred his senses and sent 
the hot blood coursing through him. She stopped 
abruptly, put her guitar on one side, sprang to her 
feet and clapped her little hands. At the signal, a 
strain of soft, sensuous music came from outside the 


MIXED MOTIVES 


147 


open window, drifting in with the scent of the orange 
blossoms. She began to dance, slowly and gracefully, 
her lithe figure and little feet keeping time with the 
unseen musicians. From beginning to end she never 
took her eyes from his, and upon her full, red* lips was 
a smile of invitation, through which gleamed her even, 
white teeth. The dance consisted of posturing to the 
slow music; from time to time she would clap her 
hands and the music would quicken. Gradually, she 
came nearer and nearer to him and her motions and 
postures became more and more suggestive ; he caught 
glimpses of her well-turned ankles ; she threw away the 
scarf which had enfolded her throat, and he saw her 
beautiful neck and shoulders. He watched her in 
breathless fascination as she came nearer and nearer. 
At last, with a languorous sigh she dropped into his 
arms, threw hers about his neck and pressed her red 
lips to his. 

“ I love you, I love you,” she whispered. 

The touch of her lips broke the spell. He remem- 
bered with a pang that the last lips that had touched 
his in love had been those of Elizabeth, and that was 
so recent that no other woman could yet take her place. 
He sprang to his feet, uncurled the clinging arms from 
about his neck and fled from the house, hearing as he 
left, the amused and mocking laugh of the girl from 
whom he fled. His blood was on fire, but as he came 
nearer the shore, he regained his calmness and with it 
came the conclusion that this was Roscoe’s work and 


148 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


that it had been planned to entrap him. A feeling of 
deep resentment rose in his heart against his Captain. 
He called a boat and was rowed off to the ship. Barry 
was on watch and came sleepily to the gangway to 
meet him. 

“ Halloa ! Pierre,” he cried with a yawn, “ you’re off 
early. Where's the Captain ? ” 

“ I left him ashore, calling at the house of a friend 
of his, a widow with a charming daughter.” 

There was something so bitter and sneering in the 
tone that Barry looked at Pierre curiously. He 
noticed that Pierre was agitated and so he said : 

" Come and sit down on the poop deck with me 
for a while. It’s too early to turn in, and you want 
to enjoy the moonlight.” 

He took his friend’s arm and led him up the ladder 
onto the deck; then they seated themselves and at last 
Pierre unfolded the events of the evening. Barry 
listened with close attention and gave a short, amused 
laugh from time to time. When Pierre had finished, 
Barry asked : 

“ What did you say was her name, Pierre? ” 

“ Lola Carter, I heard the Captain call her.” 

“ Phew !” whistled Barry. “ So you withstood the 
seductions of the fair Lola. Saint Anthony can’t hold 
a candle to you. Seventeen? She’s twenty, if she’s 
a day, and in the five years she has been up to her tricks 
she has ruined dozens of young men, and some older 
ones, too. She and her mother must be rich enough 
to go back to England and cut a swell as a West 


MIXED MOTIVES 


149 


Indian widow and her heiress daughter to catch some 
nobleman ; for they make no bones of telling what they 
intend to do. Lola is the most beautiful woman in the 
islands, and the wickedest.” 

“Then why did Captain Roscoe take me there ?” 
asked Pierre indignantly. 

“ I wish he’d take me,” grinned Barry ; “ I don’t 
think I’d run away; I’m no Saint Anthony.” 

Captain Roscoe did not return to the ship that night ; 
and in the morning, a boatman brought off a note to 
Block saying he was called to Spanish Town on busi- 
ness for several days and to have Tom, the cabin boy, 
pack up a change of linen for him. Four days later, 
the Captain appeared at breakfast, but acted as if noth- 
ing had occurred. The only reference he ever made to 
the affair was when he said to Pierre with an amused 
smile : 

“ You should have been a priest, my lad ; ” but there 
was a look in the youth’s face that deterred his Captain 
from saying more. 

From Kingston, the brig sailed to the coast of Hon- 
duras. As soon as the ship left port, Captain Roscoe 
gave orders that the guns should be overhauled and 
put in condition for use. Of these, there were three 
carronades in each gangway, with a brass swivel for- 
ward and a similar gun aft on the poop deck. Board- 
ing-pikes, cutlassess and muskets were also broken out 
and placed in racks handy to get at. Pierre watched 
these preparations with interest and learned that they 
might run across some piratical craft in the waters to 


150 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


which they were bound. He picked up a cutlass and 
handled it with such awkwardness as he examined it 
that Barry laughed at him. 

“ If you handle your weapon like that, Pierre, it’ll 
be more dangerous to you than to any one in front 
of you. Here, I’ll show you how. At old Trinity, I 
was the best swordsman there, with either broadsword 
or rapier. It was the only thing at which I was 
best,” he added ruefully. 

Barry at once began a series of lessons in fencing 
with his friend, and Pierre was soon deeply immersed 
in a knowledge of quarte, tierce and moulinets. Then 
Barry had the carpenter make a couple of wooden 
rapiers, and these did very well until they could get 
something better. He was glad to renew his old-time 
accomplishment, and Pierre was a willing and intelli- 
gent pupil. 

It was on the first of February that the brig arrived 
in the Bay of Honduras, her destination being Balize, 
a port of most unsavory reputation in the past as a 
piratical resort and not yef free of its bad name. She 
had approached the shore to the northward of the 
port where a number of low keys protect the main- 
land from the full sweep of the waves of the Caribbean 
Sea, and now lay becalmed in the interval between the 
land breeze of the morning and the sea breeze of the 
afternoon. Lying at anchor near the land was a brig 
of about the same size as the Saucy Polly , from whose 
peak flew the British colors. The two vessels were 
about three miles apart, but through his glass, Cap- 


MIXED MOTIVES 


151 


tain Roscoe could see that the stranger seemed to have 
a crew much larger than that usually required for a 
vessel of her size and that there seemed to be extra- 
ordinary activity aboard her. While he was exam- 
ining her, three boats, loaded to the gunwales with 
men, shot out from the farther side, and turning under 
her bow, headed in the direction of the Saucy Polly. 
A quick estimate showed Roscoe that the boats con- 
tained about sixty men ; his own crew numbered 
twenty. 

” Pirates, by God ! ” he shouted ; “ we’re in for it 
now. Eoad the guns and see everything clear for 
repelling boarders.” 

Within fifteen minutes the guns were loaded, the 
muskets and pikes placed handy, each man armed with 
cutlass and pistol and standing at his position, watch- 
ing the Captain who was walking calmly up and down 
the poop, one eye supervising the preparations on his 
own vessel and the other on the approaching boats. 
By the time the Saucy Polly was ready to receive them 
the unwelcome visitors had come within pistol shot 
distance. * 

“ Boats ahoy ! ” shouted Roscoe ; “ come no nearer, 
or we’ll fire.” 

“Fire and be damned to you,” shouted a man stand- 
ing in the bow of the nearest boat; whereupon the 
crews of the three boats let out a blood-curdling yell 
of defiance and bent quickly to their oars. Block was 
standing at the brass swivel on the top-gallant fore- 
castle. To the Captain’s nod and wave of the arm, he 


152 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


waved his own and then took deliberate aim at one 
of the boats. He was so slow about it that Roscoe 
shouted : 

“ For God’s sake ! fire, Block ; don’t take all day 
about it.” 

Almost as he spoke, Block applied his smoking match 
to the gun; there was a loud explosion, and the shot 
went true to its mark, tearing in amidst the crowded 
boat and shattering it so that it began to sink under its 
passengers who were at once struggling in the water. 
Yells of pain came from some of them, but no attempt 
was made by their companions in the other boats to 
go to their aid. Instead, the leader shouted : 

“ Swim for the brig. Give way, my lads, and board 
her.” 

With a wild yell from their crews, the two boats 
dashed toward the ship. Then the carronades in the 
gangway spoke ; and though the shots were well aimed 
and bowled over some of the men, the boats continued 
their course. There was no time to reload, and the 
boats were too close for any gunfire to be effective. 

“ Repel boarders,” yelled Roscoe. The crew left 
their guns, grabbed pikes and muskets, and as the 
pirates appeared over the bulwarks, jabbed at them 
and sent several howling back into the sea or tumbling 
into their boat. Pistol and musket shots rang out from 
both sides and several of the Polly's crew fell. 

Pierre was on the poop with the Captain and had 
watched the approach of the pirates with a quickened 
beating of the heart. It was his first experience, and 


MIXED MOTIVES 


153 


while awaiting the approach of the attacking party he 
had felt very nervous. As soon as the gun was fired, 
he had lost all nervousness and had yelled with the rest 
and fired his pistol at the pirates, leaning over the side 
and exposing himself unconsciously to do so. Then 
he had placed himself by the side of the Captain and 
had watched Barry in the gangway directing the crew 
repel the boarders. The crew from the swivel had 
joined Barry in the starboard gangway, but Block came 
aft in the port gangway to speak to the Captain. 

“ Dat vass a damnt goot shot,” he said. “ Did you 
see dose fellers tumble into der vater? ” He gave his 
expressionless chuckle, and Pierre was almost on the 
point of laughing with him, when the chuckle ceased 
abruptly and Block’s eyes seemed to bulge from his 
head as he looked beyond the Captain and Pierre who 
were standing at the break of the poop. Pierre turned 
quickly to see what had attracted the mate’s attention 
and saw the pirate leader standing on the taffrail 
taking deliberate aim at Roscoe’s back with a pistol. 
While the melee was in progress in the gangway, the 
pirate with several of his companions had dropped his 
boat astern and had clambered up the stern of the ship, 
knowing that an unexpected attack from that quarter 
would demoralize the Polly's crew and that the fall 
of her Captain would probably end the fight. Pierre 
still had his empty pistol in his hand. Without an 
instant’s hesitation he hurled it at the pirate leader 
not fifteen feet away. The aim was good, for the 
missile struck the pirate’s arm at the moment he fired, 


154 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


and the ball from his weapon went sailing over Ros- 
coe’s head. Before he could recover himself, Pierre 
was upon him, cutlass in hand. The pirate was a big, 
powerful man, but his footing upon the rail was inse- 
cure, and Pierre’s attack was so sudden and so fierce 
that he could not gain the deck itself where he would 
have had a better chance with his assailant. The 
struggle was short ; Pierre disarmed his opponent, and 
then using the lunge which Barry had taught him, 
plunged his cutlass with such force into the pirate that 
it passed through his body. The pirate with a wild yell 
of pain and horror fell back into the sea ; and Pierre, 
who had lunged with such force, lost his balance and 
would have followed him had it not been for Roscoe 
who grabbed him in the nick of time. Roscoe had 
heard the noise behind him and had sprung to Pierre’s 
assistance. The fall of their leader seemed to dispirit 
the half dozen men who were with him and who were 
climbing up the side; for with a yell of dismay, they 
slipped back again into their boat, but not until Roscoe 
had left his marks upon a couple of them. Relieved 
from danger in that quarter, Roscoe rushed to the 
rail and shouted : 

“ Now, my lads, give it to ’em ; drive ’em back ; their 
leader’s dead.” 

At the same moment he ran down the ladder and 
joined his struggling crew, who, animated by his pres- 
ence, renewed the defense with increased fervor and 
within a minute had driven every one of the boarders 


MiXED MOTIVES 


155 


out of the chains into his boat. Shouts in a dozen 
languages came from the piratical boats, and the 
P oily's crew could see them getting out their oars and 
pushing off in a very paroxysm of panic. So wild 
with fear were they that they did not stop to pick up 
their comrades who were struggling in the water. 
Barry jumped upon the bulwark and fired his musket 
into the boat below him. Some of the crew joined 
him and hurled cannon shot, belaying pins, anything 
they could lay their hands on or that was passed up to 
them, into the crowded boats. Then the cook appeared 
from the galley with a great kettle of boiling water 
and that was poured into the mass of men below. 
Yells of pain, horror, mortal fear and dismay arose 
and were answered by the triumphant shouts of the 
Polly's crew. At last, the vanquished pirates pushed 
clear of the side and pulled sullenly away. 

Meanwhile, Block had climbed slowly to the poop 
and gone to the gun there. He called to Pierre : 

“ Lend a hant here, Peer. Ve shall vant dis gun 
presently. It is loated mit grape ; I know, for I loated 
it myself.” 

He walked to the side and took a look at the boats, 
then returning, said : 

“ I shall vant to aim apout fifty feet from der ship.” 

Pierre helped him to train the gun; then when the 
boats had reached the position that Block had antici- 
pated, he touched his smoking match, and a shower 
of grape spread among the crews of the two retreat- 


156 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


in g boats. Yells once more arose and several men 
were seen to drop their oars. 

“ Dot’s goot, Peer ; I fired der first shot of der 
battle, und I fired der last.” 

With a final yell of triumph, Barry and his men 
dropped from the bulwarks and the Captain began to 
take account of the injuries his crew had suffered. 
One man had been killed, and six had been more or 
less badly wounded. These were fixed up as well as 
possible with all the rough surgical skill that the Cap- 
tain had at his command, and the work of clearing up 
the decks was started. Over the side several dead 
pirates were floating in the water, and several live ones 
were swimming about. They begged piteously to be 
taken aboard; but Roscoe answered their despair- 
ing cries : 

“ No, damn you, drown! or if you don’t like that, 
there’s your ship ; swim to it.” 

Several of them did succeed in reaching their shat- 
tered boat and clung to its sides, waiting until such 
time as their beaten comrades should recover from 
their fear and return to their rescue. Having attended 
to these matters, Roscoe walked moodily aft to the 
poop where Pierre stood watching the proceedings on 
deck. The Captain gave Pierre a glance whose mean- 
ing its recipient could not determine, but he said noth- 
ing to the commander, who began to walk up and down 
the deck, apparently lost in thought. Ten minutes 
must have passed when he turned to Pierre and said 
bitterly : 


MIXED MOTIVES 


157 


“ I °we you my life. I saw ; it was not worth a 
minute’s purchase. Why did you ever cross my path, 
Pierre Husted? I owed you nothing but hate; and 
God seemed to have brought us together to satisfy my 
revenge. I have tempted you with the cards, with 
women and with wine; and you have withstood all. 
You can never know my reasons. I should hate you; 
— but I cannot — and now, I owe you my life.” 

He stopped abruptly, as if overcome by his emo- 
tions, then he gave a glance at Pierre and went to the 
cabin. Pierre followed him with his eyes, too lost 
in astonishment to say anything. Then he turned and 
walked to the taffrail and stood in thought. As he 
gazed into the water, the upturned face of the pirate 
leader seemed to look into his as the gentle swell 
rolled the dead body about. It had a horrible fascina- 
tion for Pierre, this first man he had killed. He shud- 
dered at the sight, but in a few minutes he had become 
used to it and his thoughts went back to Captain 
Roscoe and his strange talk. 

“ Who is this man ? ” he asked himself; “ what possi- 
ble connection can there be between us other than our 
present one? What have I ever done to call forth a 
desire on his part for revenge? Perhaps, he knows 
my parentage ? ” His heart gave a wild leap and 
his mind went back to Elizabeth. He began to turn 
over all that Roscoe had ever divulged about himself 
since they had been together, and though the Captain 
had talked and boasted in his liquor, there was really 
very little about the man’s own early life that he had 


158 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


told. His mother was Irish and his father French ; yet 
Roscoe was not a French name. Rather, it was Irish; 
perhaps, his mother’s name, which the Captain had 
assumed for some reason. His proficiency in the 
French language convinced Pierre that he had lived 
in France; yet, upon his own admission he was a grad- 
uate of Trinity College, in Dublin. He had spoken 
about riding and driving upon his grandfather’s estate 
in Ireland and having learned his seamanship upon the 
west coast of that country ; but he had never made any 
mention of his French relatives or ancestors. That 
was all. There suddenly flashed upon Pierre’s mind 
the recollection of the face distorted with terror that 
had looked into his, and the cry : 

" Pierre! what do you want? I haven’t the child.” 

Great God! why had he not thought of it before? 
Roscoe had evidently taken him for some one else, 
some one whom he resembled, some one whose son he 
might be; and Roscoe knew. He would have it out 
of the Captain if he had to force it from him at the 
mouth of a pistol ; and that at once. No time should 
be lost — it was of too much importance to him — the 
happiness of his life might depend upon it. He was 
still gazing at the water almost without seeing, when 
his eyes became fastened in horror upon the dead 
pirate, whose body slowly rose upright in the water 
as if to mock him. The cause of the action became 
visible at the same instant, when the snout of an 
immense shark appeared under the body. Fascinated, 
Pierre saw the monster turn slowly on his back, the 


MIXED MOTIVES 


159 


great jaws open and close with a crunch upon the 
body and both shark and dead pirate disappear from 
sight. “ My God ! ” he cried, trying to shut out the 
horrible thing from view; then he fled panic-stricken 
to his cabin. 


CHAPTER XI 


A NEW VOCATION 

In less than half an hour after Pierre went below, 
the sea breeze sprang up and the brig was on her way 
to Balize. The Captain kept his room during this 
time, but Pierre could hear him moving about. He 
did not, however, interrupt him ; for his thoughts were 
in too chaotic a condition and he wished to formulate 
his ideas before pressing the Captain for answers to his 
questions. The Captain did not put in an appearance 
at supper, nor did he leave his stateroom until Block 
sent him word about eleven o’clock that the ship was 
entering the harbor ; then he went on deck to direct the 
evolution of bringing the ship to her anchorage. The 
Captain stayed a long time on deck; so long, in fact, 
that Pierre suspected he was trying to avoid his super- 
cargo. At midnight Pierre turned in, giving up as 
hopeless the chance of seeing Roscoe. At breakfast, 
the Captain was missing, and to Pierre’s question, 
Block answered : 

“ The Captain went ashore yoost after we come to 
anchor. He had his sea-chest and a number of pack- 
ages brought from his room, and he wass rowed 
ashore. He said he vood not be pack for some tays, 
160 


A NEW VOCATION 161 

but dot ve could find him at the hotel, or tavern or 
votever they call it.” 

“ So much the better,” thought Pierre; “ashore it 
will be man to man, whereas aboard ship it would be 
master and subordinate.” 

He procured a cutlass and pistol, and at nine 
o’clock was rowed ashore to attend to the business of 
the ship and to see Colonel Philipse’s agent or cor- 
respondent. His dress and equipment did not attract 
attention; for he found many armed as he was, as 
Barry had said he would. He made cautious inquiries 
at the agent’s and elsewhere about the squalid settle- 
ment; but no one had seen or heard anything about 
the Captain; he had apparently disappeared as if the 
earth had swallowed him up. Late in the afternoon, 
when he was at the agent’s, a mulatto boy entered and 
asked for him, at the same time producing a letter. It 
was addressed to him in Captain Roscoe’s handwriting. 
He lost no time in tearing it open. 

“Pierre; I have gone into the Interior of this Country, out 
of your Life & you will never see me again. If you sh d ever 
think of me in the Future, remember what Good I have done 
to you, not what Evil I tried to do. 

James Roscoe.” 

He was in a state of bewilderment when he had 
finished reading. The Captain had escaped him after 
all, and the mystery that he had thought was about 
to be cleared up was a greater mystery still ; for now 
there was Roscoe’s connection with it. The boy 


162 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


handed him another packet addressed to Adrien 
Block. 

“ Who gave you these letters ?• Where did you get 
them? When was it?” were some of the questions 
he fired at the boy. The mulatto was confused; but 
after all Pierre’s questioning and bribing, all he could 
learn from the boy was that early that morning, just 
after sun-up, a gentleman on horseback had given him 
a silver piece and asked him to deliver the letters late 
in the afternoon. The gentleman also had a pack mule 
and an Indian muleteer. No, he didn’t know where 
the gentleman was going; he had at once run home 
to give the silver piece to his mammy, and had not 
noticed. Though late, Pierre at once began to make 
inquiries along the different trails leading from the 
town ; but the early darkness of the tropics caused him 
to discontinue his search. He went aboard ship and 
gave the packet to Block, who read the contents slowly 
and laboriously. 

“ I’m tamnt if this ain’t the funniest ting I ever hat 
happen to me,” said Block, when he had finished read- 
ing. “ Captain Roscoe says he hass gone for goot 
und dot he vill neffer more return, und dot I am to 
take command of der prig und follow out der voyage. 
I vill fint all dose papers und directions in his room. 
Come here with me, Pierre und Barry.” 

They entered the Captain’s room and found it empty 
of all things belonging to Roscoe ; but the ship’s papers, 
the chronometer and nautical instruments were there, 
^s well as 3 chest containing the money belonging to 


A NEW VOCATION 


163 


the ship. The three looked at each other in speech- 
less amazement, but none could enlighten his fellows. 
Later, Pierre thought he had found a solution for the 
strange action of this strong man — torn by conflicting 
motives, he had fled to escape a decision in regard to 
them. 

They remained four days longer in Balize, and 
Pierre took advantage of every opportunity to make 
inquiries about the missing Captain ; but without avail ; 
for the Captain had covered his trail up thoroughly. 
Another mate was easily procured in a floating popu- 
lation composed almost entirely of seafaring men, and 
the voyage was resumed in accordance with the plans 
of Colonel Philipse. A few days before Christmas of 
the year 1773, the brig went alongside her wharf in 
New York. On the day before Christmas, Pierre 
hired a horse in New York and rode out to West- 
chester. It was already dark when he rode up to the 
door of his home, and the bright windows gave him 
a cheerful glow in his heart. The door was opened 
to him by Sarah, who with a glad cry threw her arms 
about his neck and dragged him into the house for 
the welcome that awaited him there. He had brought 
presents for them all, and he was made happy by the 
simple delight with which they received these gifts. 
He stayed at home four days, during which he found 
several opportunities to make cautious inquiries of his 
mother about her knowledge of a James Roscoe; but 
she had never known such a person. Roscoe’s strange 
disappearance moved them all to wonder; but even 


164 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


when he showed Roscoe’s note, his mother gave not 
the slightest sign of intelligence in regard to it. He 
could not pursue the matter further on account of the 
delicacy he felt toward this good, sweet woman who 
was his mother. 

On New Year’s day he took advantage of the uni- 
versal custom of the New Yorkers and made a series 
of calls upon his friends. He entered the De Lancey 
home with a feeling of trepidation, but the cordial 
welcome he received from its inmates put him at ease. 
Elizabeth, he learned with a mixed feeling of relief 
and pain, was not at home. She had had quite a seri- 
ous attack of illness earlier in the year and had not 
been strong since; so to escape the gay, social life of 
the city she had gone for the winter and spring to 
stay with relatives in New Jersey. The information 
was given to him by one of Elizabeth’s sisters, who 
was evidently unacquainted with his interest in her. 
Later, he met James De Lancey at the house of a com- 
mon friend, and from him he learned that Elizabeth 
had been ill but that she was getting over it. There 
was a significance about these last words that made 
him happier; for he was not of such a temperament 
as to enjoy the thought that any woman was unhappy 
through love for him. 

During the three months that the Polly was repair- 
ing, Pierre was employed in the counting-house of 
Colonel Philipse, where he learned a great deal of 
practical business and where he struck up a strong 
friendship with David Humphreys. The two young 


A NEW VOCATION 165 

fellows boarded with a widow on Beaver Street and 
thus saw a great deal of each other. Neither was 
inclined to riotous living, but both enjoyed the quieter 
pleasures of the town, going to the theater occasionally 
and to concerts and other entertainments. They had 
their little circle of friends, and Pierre discovered that 
he had a good singing voice, so that he was able to 
assist in these simple social affairs. He also took 
lessons on the flute, a musical instrument more popu- 
lar with musical amateurs in those days than in these. 
He renewed his friendship with Doctor Cooper who 
was deeper than ever in his political writings. Every 
incoming packet brought news of the action of Parlia- 
ment in regard to colonial affairs; and broadsides, 
editorials and communications over classical pseudo- 
nyms filled the Mercury, the New York Journal, and 
Rivington’s Gazette. The Doctor was the acknowl- 
edged champion of the government party, and his 
time was engaged so much that his duties as presi- 
dent of the college were interfered with. He called 
upon Pierre to help him, and Pierre was once more 
in the full swing of controversial, political argument. 
Humphreys, being a democratic New Englander could 
not hold with these aristocratic New Yorkers; and he 
and his friend had many an argument which often 
became heated and produced (paradoxical as it may 
seem) a temporary coolness between them. 

In the month of March the Polly made a short 
cruise to the southern colonies under her new com- 
mander, Block; but she was back in New York by 


166 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


the beginning of May. Pierre was home for a few 
days at the time of the annual county fair held in 
Westchester town during May and helped his father 
in the sale of his sheep and other things. He was 
looking at the busy scene one day with his sister 
Sarah, when a young man came up on horseback. 
He was dressed in the height of the prevailing fashion 
and was a good-looking young fellow, in whom Pierre, 
after a puzzled glance, recognized his old enemy, 
William Bayard. Bayard’s prolonged stare of admi- 
ration at his pretty sister caused that young lady to 
blush furiously and made Pierre angry. Bayard had 
not noticed the girl’s companion; but as he rode on, 
he gave a backward glance and recognized Pierre. 
He gave a start, and there came into his eyes a sudden 
gleam as he met Pierre’s angry look; then he turned 
his horse, came back and dismounted. He approached 
Pierre with outstretched hand and smiling face: 

“ Good morning, Pierre,” he said ; “ will you not 
let bygones be bygones? We are men now and 
should forget our boyish quarrels, for which, believe 
me, I am very sorry. I think I was in the wrong on 
most occasions and I apologize humbly for my indis- 
cretions.” 

He laughed pleasantly as he spoke, and Pierre’s 
generous spirit forgave him; he reached out his hand 
and shook Bayard’s heartily. 

“ I agree with you, William, with all my heart.” 
Then, as Bayard stood looking questioningly at him 


A NEW VOCATION 167 

and at Sarah, Pierre said, “ My sister, Mr. William 
Bayard of Throgg’s Neck.” 

Sarah blushed as she curtsied to the introduction, 
while Bayard removed his hat, which he placed over 
his heart, and made her a sweeping bow. 

“ I’m charmed, Mistress Husted, at the honor.” 
His glance of bold admiration made the young girl 
blush and cling to her brother’s arm. Pierre looked 
at her confusion in smiling affection. 

After a few minutes conversation, in which Bayard 
imparted the fact that he was reading law in the office 
of James Duane, the little group broke up and Bayard 
rode away. Pierre rallied his sister gently upon hav- 
ing made a conquest, and in happy frame they re- 
turned home. The next day when they reached the 
neighborhood of the fair, Sarah displayed but little 
interest in what was going on but sent her glances 
curiously over the crowd and at every new arrival. 
A voice behind her made her start. Her heart gave a 
little jump and she blushed and turned about eagerly. 

“ Good morning, Mr. Bayard. You startled me.” 
After a moment’s hesitation, she extended her hand 
which Bayard took and bowed over as if it had been 
that of a queen. The three strolled about, looking at 
the horses and other animals that were here for sale, 
at the packs of the peddlers with their collection of 
miscellaneous articles from a pewter pan to a bolt of 
silk and at the jugglers and mountebanks who were 
reaping their richest harvest at this, the most import- 


168 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


ant and well-attended fair in the Province. Pierre 
was called by some acquaintance, and he left his sister 
with Bayard for a few minutes. He was making his 
way back to where he had left Sarah, when he came 
upon a group of several young men hovering about a 
young girl. He glanced at her casually, and was at 
once struck by her unusual beauty, a beauty of soul 
as well as of flesh. She was about seventeen, tall and 
slender with the grace of a young deer. Her dark 
hair hung in ringlets about her face ; beneath her low 
brow looked a pair of dark eyes, now sparkling with 
interest and mirth as she talked with her companions. 
Her red lips were apart as she smiled, disclosing two 
rows of beautiful, strong white teeth. A shake of the 
head had thrown the ringlets over her face ; and as she 
pushed them back, Pierre caught a glimpse of an ear 
as delicate and pink as a flower, and of a small, beauti- 
ful, slender hand. 

“ Who can she be ? ” he asked himself ; “ she is the 
most beautiful thing I have ever seen. ,, 

Suddenly her roving eyes fell upon him and sur- 
prised his look of admiration ; she stopped in her talk, 
a look of doubt appeared for a moment upon her face, 
but after a moment’s slight hesitation, she stepped for- 
ward with outstretched hand, a slight blush giving her 
cheeks a fine color, and in a soft, rich voice that Pierre 
unconsciously thought matched her appearance, said: 

“ This is Pierre — Mr. Husted. Have you forgotten 
your old-time friend, Lucie de bon Repos ? ” 

He bowed over her hand as he replied : 


A NEW VOCATION 


169 


“ It does not seem possible that so much time has 
passed. I left you a child, and you are a woman. 
. . . And your father and mother ? ” 

“ They are here and will be delighted to see you 
again. You may take me to them. Good-bye, boys, ,, 
she called to the group of youngsters who were about 
her own age or younger. She added by way of 
explanation. “ They are some of my father’s former 
pupils.” 

They found their way through the throng, each 
quiet and furtively examining the other. 

“ You have become a big, strong — handsome man,” 
she said at last, with a blush and a laugh. 

“ And you,” he said, in the same spirit, “ you are — 
lovely.” 

She laughed outright at his frankly expressed 
opinion. 

“ I’m glad you think so,” she commented shyly. 
Then silence fell between them, and each seemed con- 
tent at the restoration of their old-time companionship. 
Presently they came across Bayard and Sarah. At 
sight of the former, a flush of annoyance crossed her 
face; but she answered his greeting politely, if some- 
what coldly. Bayard was easily familiar as if he were 
well acquainted with her, and Pierre was astonished 
to find that he had a feeling of resentment and jeal- 
ousy against his former schoolmate. Pierre intro- 
duced the two young ladies, but Sarah was unaccount- 
ably shy, and a visible constraint fell upon them all, 
except Bayard, who chattered on unconcernedly, ap- 


170 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


parently liking the sound of his own voice, as Pierre 
said to himself savagely. Mistress Lucie was mean- 
while silent, but her glances were passing over the 
groups of people scattered over the town-green. She 
interrupted Bayard’s flow of small talk suddenly and 
cried, as she put her hand on Pierre’s sleeve : 

“ There are papa and mamma, talking to Rector 
Seabury.” 

The four young people went in their direction, and 
Mr. de bon Repos and his wife both showed their 
pleasure at meeting Pierre after so many years. 
Madam de bon Repos did not seem to Pierre to 
be in good health; always a rather delicate-looking 
woman, she now appeared spiritualized, he thought. 
As soon as the greetings were over, the Rector re- 
sumed his talk with Mr. de bon Repos. 

“ As I was saying, sir, I do not think that the pri- 
vate school that I have in view would conflict with you 
in any way. You have always restricted the number 
of your pupils to less than fifteen and have not required 
an assistant. I will take care of the surplus that you 
refuse. Already, I see that I shall need some one 
to assist me next year. Could you recommend some 
one for the place, some one of your former pupils, Mr. 
de bon Repos ? Of course, he will have to be a gentle- 
man and a collegian. I should prefer a young man who 
intends to enter holy orders, but that is not a requisite 
if I can obtain an otherwise satisfactory young man 
who is a member of the church.” 

Mr. de bon Repos was thoughtful for a minute; 


A NEW VOCATION 


171 


then attracted by the voices of the group a few paces 
from him, his eyes fell upon Pierre. 

“ There is the very man you want, Mr. Seabury,” 
he said with sudden inspiration ; “ Pierre Husted is, I 
believe, capable in every way.” 

As Pierre returned to New York the next day, he 
did not see Eucie again, but his thoughts kept reverting 
to her so constantly that he was surprised at himself. 
The Saucy Polly sailed almost immediately after his 
return with a cabin full of passengers for England, her 
port of destination being Plymouth. Several of the 
younger ladies looked and languished in vain at the 
handsome young fellow; though he was polite and 
attentive to them as became his duty. In Plymouth, 
he ran across Barry, who was first mate of a ship out 
of Salem in the Massachusetts colony. Barry told him 
a piece of news : that a friend of his had seen Cap- 
tain Roscoe in London. Pierre had to make a journey 
to London on business, and he took advantage of it 
to make inquiries about his former commander. He 
learned that only two days before his arrival, Roscoe 
had sailed in command of an East Indiaman and was 
now on his way to Calcutta. He bitterly cursed his 
ill-luck, but consoled himself with the thought that 
Fate had brought them together twice before, and 
that it might do so again. The Polly made a short 
cruise up the Baltic and returned to New York in 
December, after a stormy voyage across the Western 
Ocean, reaching New York in such a battered con- 
dition as to necessitate her going out of commission 


172 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


for several months. Colonel Philipse informed Pierre 
that he would not need his services during the winter, 
as several other ships were laid up, and their super- 
cargoes, having been longer in his service, were 
entitled to first claim to his employment in clerical 
capacities ashore. 

Pierre returned to Westchester, determined to find 
what employment he could ; and Mr. Seabury, finding 
him disengaged, offered him a position as assistant 
in his school. This offer Pierre accepted, much to the 
pleasure of his home folk with whom he took up his 
residence, riding or walking the mile or more between 
Westchester and the farm. Frequently he had as a 
companion in these short journeys Mr. Isaac Wilkins, 
a brother-in-law of Lewis Morris, the manor-lord, of 
Morrisania. Mr. Wilkins occupied the former Under- 
hill house at the extreme end of the Neck and he was 
the member of the Provincial Assembly for the Bor- 
ough-town. Pierre interested him greatly by retailing 
his boyish experiences as a smuggler in which Wilkins’ 
house had played a part; but though he sounded Mr. 
Wilkins cautiously, he found that the member did not 
know of the curious hiding-place in his own house, 
nor did Pierre tell him. Mr. Seabury had three 
churches within his parish, Westchester, Eastchester 
and New Rochelle; and Pierre accompanied him twice 
to Eastchester before he offered to accompany him to 
New Rochelle. He was anxious to renew his friend- 
ship with Mr. de bon Repos, so he told himself, but 
when he said so at home, Sarah looked sly and said ; 


A NEW VOCATION 


173 


“That will do to tell, Pierre; but I guess if there 
were no Mistress Lucie you would not be so anxious 
to see the father.” 

Whereupon Pierre blushed, called his sister “ a 
minx ” and chased her until he caught her and laugh- 
ingly boxed her ears. 


CHAPTER XII 


COMING EVENTS 

Though no newspapers were published within the 
County of Westchester, the inhabitants eagerly read 
those published in New York. These contained ac- 
counts of the agitations that affected the several 
colonies, the town meetings of Massachusetts, the 
patriotic clubs, the speeches of “ Sam ” Adams, the 
utterances of Patrick Henry, the letters of the great 
Doctor Franklin, and the constant letters in the papers 
by lesser lights upon such engrossing subjects as tea, 
the closure of the Port of Boston, the speeches of 
Burke and the quartering of soldiers upon the inhab- 
itants of the towns. The simple farmers of the 
county could not understand the excitements which 
prevailed on account of these things, but kept on in 
their usual pursuits, planting crops and harvesting 
them, raising cattle and poultry, cutting wood and 
making potash. They were more concerned in get- 
ting these products to the city of New York and 
obtaining good prices for them than they were in the 
matter of politics, upon which they had no time to 
waste. 

“ All we want is to be let alone/’ said these sturdy 
yeomen in word as in deed. “ We are satisfied with 
174 


COMING EVENTS 


175 


things as they are ; our markets are good ; and if there 
is trouble elsewhere, it’s all the better for us, as we 
can get better prices. Eet the gentry attend to the 
politics ; they’re the ones who are most affected by the 
navigation laws stopping the contraband, and it’s none 
of our business.” 

The Morrises of Morrisania, the Thomases of the 
upper section of the county, the De Lanceys of West 
Farms, Isaac Wilkins, the clergy of the Established 
Church, with all their great influence over their neigh- 
bors and tenants were unable to arouse any great 
interest among the inhabitants, and were obliged to 
exert their influence in the city. No “Sons of Liberty” 
or Committees of Correspondence existed in West- 
chester County ; but, on the contrary, when any of the 
inhabitants did give voice to his opinions, they were 
always on the side of the government. The fact that 
there were a great many Quakers settled in the county 
may have affected the population to such conservative 
action ; for the less sanguine could see that the general 
agitation and unrest must necessarily lead to bloodshed 
and war, to which the Friends were opposed on ac- 
count of their religion. Even among the great fami- 
lies, there was a difference of opinions between the 
members of the same family. Thus, while Lewis and 
Gouverneur Morris tended to the so-called popular 
side with the hopes of ousting the De Lanceys from' 
the positions of honor and power which they had held 
so long, Isaac Wilkins, their brother-in-law, was the 
most ardent supporter of ministerial power, and in a 


176 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


series of communications signed “.A. W. Farmer 
(A Westchester Farmer) pretended to represent the 
farmers’ side of the question. 

The acquaintance between Isaac Wilkins and Pierre 
had grown into friendship, and political matters were 
freely discussed between them. Pierre’s assistance to 
Doctor Cooper had given him a vast store of in- 
formation in regard to the legal and constitutional 
grounds upon which the supporters of government 
were making their fight; and upon this store, Mr. Wil- 
kins drew freely, finding, as Doctor Cooper had done, 
a valuable coadjutor in the younger man. But though 
Cooper and Wilkins did their utmost in logical argu- 
ments in the newspapers, the radical party had a 
champion who was able to tear their most carefully 
prepared arguments to pieces. His identity was hid- 
den under a pseudonym, but it was at last discovered 
that he was a student at King’s, less than eighteen 
years of age, and like Mr. Wilkins, a West Indian by 
birth, by name, Alexander Hamilton. 

In March, a call was sent out to the freeholders of 
the county to meet at the White Plains on the eleventh 
of April to select delegates to a proposed general as- 
sembly, or congress, of the colonies. At the invita- 
tion of Mr. Wilkins, Pierre accompanied him to the 
county seat. They rode on horseback, starting on the 
morning of the eleventh with a small party from the 
Borough-town and being joined at every road and by- 
way by others until there was a procession of fifty 
or more. Upon reaching the White Plains, the party 


COMING EVENTS 


177 


went to the tavern of Captain Hatfield, where they 
were joined by Colonel Philipse and others of the 
conservatives. Here considerable time was spent in 
discussion, in patronizing the beverages of their host, 
and in awaiting the arrival of delayed adherents from 
distant sections of the county. The radicals under 
the leadership of Lewis Morris made their headquar- 
ters at the tavern of Isaac Oakley at the other end of 
the village. Scattered about were a hundred or more 
boys, idle and unemployed men and tenant farmers 
who had no vote, but who were attracted to the scene 
by the chance of excitement and of getting free food 
and drink. 

The hour for the meeting was eleven o’clock, but 
the time came and passed without gathering at the 
court-house. The Wilkins party was the more numer- 
ous, and the other party was afraid to tackle them. 
Strategy was, therefore, resorted to; and while the 
conservatives were at dinner, the radicals went quietly 
and secretly to the court-house and organized at once 
by the election of Lewis Morris as chairman. The news 
of this meeting was carried quickly to the Hatfield tav- 
ern, and the conservatives, with Colonel Philipse and 
Mr. Wilkins at their head, formed in procession and 
marched to the court-house. Mr. Wilkins was the 
spokesman of the dissenters. 

“ Mr. Chairman ; on behalf of the very respectable 
number of freeholders of this county, I wish to protest 
against the unlawful manner in which we have been 
called together for an unlawful purpose. We do not 


178 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER ■ 


wish to contest this matter by a poll, which would be 
to acknowledge tacitly the authority that has called 
us hither. We have come only to protest against all 
such disorderly proceedings and to shew our detesta- 
tion of all unlawful committees and congresses. We 
shall continue steadfast in our allegiance to our 
gracious and merciful sovereign, King George the 
Third, we shall submit to lawful authority, and abide 
by and support the only true representatives of the 
people of this colony, the General Assembly.” 

At the conclusion of his speech, some one shouted, 
“ Three cheers for King George ! ” They were given 
with a will, and the protestants withdrew to their inter- 
rupted dinner, singing as they went, “ God Save the 
King.” 

The Wilkins party having withdrawn, Mr. Morris 
at once put the question : “ Whether you will appoint 
deputies for this county to meet the deputies of the 
other counties ’at the city of New York on the twen- 
tieth of April instant, for the purpose of electing dele- 
gates to represent this colony in the general congress 
to be held at Philadelphia on the tenth day of May 
next.” 

The question was carried unanimously, and then 
eight gentlemen of the county were chosen as the 
county deputies, and the meeting dispersed, after giving 
three cheers for King George. A few days later an 
account of the whole affair, with a protest against the 
proceedings, signed by over three hundred freeholders 
of the county, was published in the New York papers. 


COMING EVENTS 


179 


This showed that over two-thirds of the population of 
the county were friends of the government. The paper 
was the work of Pierre and Mr. Wilkins. 

Colonel Philipse had met Pierre cordially and had 
informed him that his ships were getting to sea and 
that Pierre could have his old billet as supercargo, if 
not on the Sauoy Polly , at least on one of the others. 
Pierre was to meet him in New York on the twenty- 
fifth of the month. The idea of again going to sea 
made Pierre thoughtful. During the past few months 
he had seen Lucie de bon Repos a number of times, and 
each time he had felt his heart reach out to her, until 
now he admitted to himself that his future happiness 
depended upon her and her love. It was not her beauty 
alone, extraordinary as that was, that attracted him, 
but the tender, helpful way she extended to her father 
and mother and to her neighbors, the joyousness and 
brightness of her youth, her faculty of companionship 
and her apparent and responsive understanding of him- 
self and his moods. Did he forget Elizabeth De Lan- 
cey? No; but when her image came before his mem- 
ory, it was with a feeling of gentle regret, not with the 
poignant grief that had affected him when he had first 
wrenched himself from her love. He had accommo- 
dated himself to the inevitable, and two years had 
elapsed since he had seen her. Even when she had 
avowed her love for him, he had had a realizing sense 
that they would be nothing more to each other than 
lovers — the social conditions were too much against 
their marriage. Besides, in his love for Elizabeth 


180 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


De Lancey, perhaps unknown to himself even, there 
was an element of pride, egotism, self-satisfaction — 
call it what you will — that this great lady had be- 
stowed upon him without the asking the gift of her 
love ; upon him, a poor, nameless and unknown youth, 
whose social position was so peculiar in this aristo- 
cratic colony. He had no such feeling in regard to 
his relationship with Lucie de bon Repos. True, she 
was of gentle birth, and so was he, if all signs did not 
fail ; and while there was a taint upon his name in the 
present, so there was upon hers in the remote and 
historic past. He felt, too, that from her parents he 
would receive no opposition to his suit, if Lucie were 
to look upon him favorably. She was their only child, 
the pride and happiness of their lives, and their main 
purpose in life was to secure their daughter’s joy and 
happiness. If that could be done by consenting to a 
union with himself, whom they both liked so much, 
that consent would be cheerfully given. 

If Lucie were to look upon him favorably? That 
was the question which made him thoughtful. He ex- 
perienced the humility of true love. What was there 
in him to make this glorious young creature love him ? 
Why should she select him from above all others and 
place him in the innermost sanctuary of her heart to 
worship? There were others, he knew. There were 
a half dozen, at least, whom he knew personally who 
made no pretense of concealing their admiration for 
her. There was William Bayard, whom he had met 
twice in New Rochelle and of whom he had heard still 


COMING EVENTS 


181 


oftener, whose admiration, or love, was marked; for 
he came away as often as possible from his duties in 
New York and always sought her out. Though Pierre 
was torn by jealousy, he was fair enough to admit that 
Bayard had many things to commend him. He was 
well-born, wealthy, both actually and prospectively, 
handsome, gracious and a gentleman ; yet Pierre mis- 
trusted him, when he thought of his boyhood and how, 
later, he had himself suffered at Bayard’s hands. From 
Lucie’s own conduct toward him, he could judge 
nothing. He had never approached the subject of 
love with her nor given any of its manifestations; in 
fact, it was only the prospect of going away again that 
made him realize what his feeling for her was. They 
had been good friends and companions, as they had 
been in their childhood, and their present relations were 
simply a resumption of their old good fellowship. 

These were the thoughts that passed through his 
mind as he rode back from the White Plains with Mr. 
Wilkins, Doctor Seabury and the others who had come 
from Westchester. He was silent and paid but little 
attention to the remarks that were made by his com- 
panions; noisy remarks, most of them, for the party 
had done justice to Captain Hatfield’s liquors and to 
those at Ward’s near Tuckahoe. A little farther 
along they came to the road leading to Eastchester. 
Saying to his immediate companions that he was not 
going back at once to Westchester, he turned off here 
with several of those who lived in Eastchester and con- 
tinued with them until they reached the Boston post- 


182 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


road. Then he bade them good night, though they 
were anxious for him to continue on to Fay’s tavern 
and have another drink with them, and continued up 
the post-road to New Rochelle. As he came nearer 
to the house of Mr. de bon Repos, he became more 
and more agitated, and less and less confident — afraid 
now that he had determined to put his fate to the 
touch. The door stood hospitably open, so he dis- 
mounted, tied his horse and went into the living-room 
of the house where he usually found Lucie ; but instead 
of. her, he found her father, sitting sad and dejected. 
Mr. de bon Repos heaved a sigh as he heard the sound 
at the door, and without looking up, said : 

“ So you have come, my child. Has the doctor 
gone ? ” 

“ It is I, Pierre Husted, Mr. de bon Repos.” 

The old gentleman rose and came forward with old- 
fashioned courtesy. 

“ You are welcome, Pierre; I am glad to see you.” 

“ I fear, sir, that my visit is untimely,” Pierre said, 
after a moment’s hesitation. “ You seem to be dis- 
tressed, sir, and spoke of the doctor. Is Madam de 
bon Repos ill ? ” 

“ I am afraid so, my lad. She has been suffering for 
months, and she has not let us know. She has always 
been so bright and cheerful, but to-day she fainted, 
and we could not revive her for a long time. I sent 
for Doctor Coutant. He is with her now. O ! God ! I 
am afraid.” His voice was husky with emotion. 

Pierre shook him by the hand. 


COMING EVENTS 


183 


“ I am so sorry, sir, to hear it. I love Madam de 
bon Repos almost as well as I do my own mother. 
The doctor will surely give you good news.” 

Even as he spoke, they heard the sound of heavy 
footsteps and could hear a man passing out of the 
entry way. The husband listened eagerly. 

“ Why does he not come to tell me ? Is he afraid ? ” 

There was a light footfall at the door, and Pierre 
looked up to see Eucie enter. If she saw him, she 
gave no sign, but went straight to her father. In her 
eyes was a look of love and fear and pity. For an 
instant the father and daughter looked into each 
other’s eyes. He opened his arms and she went into 
them with an agonized cry : 

“ Father, father, father ! ” 

“ My child, my Lucie, you need not say more. Your 
mother will not get better.” Two tears rolled down 
his cheeks, and he patted his child’s back as she shook 
with sobs. Pierre’s eyes were wet as he left the father 
and daughter to their grief. 

It was dark when Pierre approached his home. He 
almost ran into a horseman who was leaving the Neck, 
and there was an interchange of sharp comments 
between them until Pierre recognized the voice of 
Bayard. 

“ What are you doing here at this time of night, 
William ? ” he asked in surprise. 

“ I — I — have been to see Richard Hunt on a matter 
of business — and was delayed. Good night, Pierre. 
It’s late, and I must get along.” 


184 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


Pierre thought nothing more of it, for Hunt was 
a tenant on one of the farms, and he was always in 
pecuniary trouble. But when he reached the house 
and had given his parents an account of the day’s 
doings, he looked about for his sister Sarah. 

“ Where is she ? ” he asked. 

“ She said she was going to see Lizzie Ferris,” 
answered Denise ; “ but eet is time the child was in.” 

“ I’ll hunt her up,” he replied, and went out, calling 
his sister’s name. A reply came from near the well, 
where she said she had stopped for a drink of water; 
but when she came into the house her eyes were shin- 
ing and she seemed nervous and agitated. She kept 
clear of the light and said almost at once she would 
go to bed. He wondered vaguely what had made her 
so excited ; but as his thoughts were on Lucie de bon 
Repos, he soon dismissed the matter from his mind. 

Early on Sunday morning, the twenty-third of April, 
Pierre started on horseback for the city. The country 
was looking its best with the return of spring, and his 
eyes roamed from one thing to another as he rode 
thoughtfully along. He had just crossed the farmers’ 
free bridge when he heard the thunder of hoofs behind 
him. He looked back and saw a horseman pushing 
on a tired horse at full speed, the horseman himself 
reeling in his saddle with fatigue and want of sleep. 
The rider dashed by him where he stood on one side, 
his horse toiling up the ascent which led from the 
bridge. A few minutes later, Pierre passed Dyckman’s 
tavern, and saw the panting horse being led to the 


COMING EVENTS 


185 


stable by one of the hostlers while the rider was going 
into the inn, probably for his breakfast. An hour’s 
easy riding brought him to the lane to Bloomingdale, 
the seat of one of the De Lanceys, and uncle of Eliza- 
beth. He had heard she was in England and he won- 
dered vaguely whether Lord Sackville would renew his 
suit for her hand. He hoped so and that he, would be 
successful, for he was a fit mate for this daughter of 
the De Lanceys who would grace any position “ at 
home,” however high. 

His course led him through McGown’s Pass and 
down the post-road until he entered the Bowery Lane. 
All about him were farms and woods, the former with 
their freshly turned furrows giving forth the strong 
smell of cultivated soil, and the latter tinged with the 
delicate green and yellow of new leaves and buds. He 
had almost reached the Bull’s Head tavern when the 
quiet of the Sabbath day was broken by the sound of 
a galloping horse. Pierre looked behind him and saw 
the tired rider once more. He passed Pierre with a 
rush, stopped for a moment at the tavern as if to ask 
directions and then pushed on. Pierre noticed when 
he came to the tavern that the people were shouting 
and running about as if wildly excited; but it was 
getting toward noon and so he did not stop. When he 
reached the city, he was surprised to find the usual 
decorum of the Sabbath day broken; for the church 
services had just finished and the congregations, in- 
stead of dispersing to their homes sedately, were gath- 
ered in groups, eagerly and excitedly discussing some 


186 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 

news which had been brought. He heard the words 
“ Concord/’ “ British regulars,” “ Lexington,” “ Mur- 
der ; ” but they brought no intelligence to him. At 
last he stopped where a gentleman was addressing a 
crowd of people and learned the news of Lexington. 
What would be the outcome? he asked himself; and 
blamed both sides for their rashness and stupidity in 
not attempting to understand each other and come to 
an agreement. 

In the days that followed, the excitement grew 
greater instead of less. The great conservative major- 
ity of the citizens had overcome its state of astonished 
excitement and had settled down to await further 
reports; but an active and radical minority under the 
leadership of Colonel Lamb and “ King ” Sears was 
forming a regiment, seizing the arms stored in the city 
hall and everywhere fomenting disturbances in the 
cause of liberty, while assuming the reins of govern- 
ment of the city. On the morning of the twenty- 
sixth, a newspaper arrived from Philadelphia which 
contained an article on the condition of affairs in New 
York and laid the blame of the trouble at the door 
of Doctor Cooper, the president of King’s College, and 
calling upon the inhabitants of New York to stop the 
mouth and pen of this inciter and champion of oppres- 
sive acts by the ministry. 

That same evening Humphreys proposed that they 
should go to the Spring Garden tavern on Great 
George Street, opposite Saint Paul’s chapel, where the 
Sons of Liberty had their headquarters, to see what 


COMING EVENTS 


187 


was going to be done. The two friends seated them- 
selves in the coffee-room and watched those who en- 
tered. Humphreys was familiar with a number of 
them and pointed out Alexander McDougal, John 
Morin Scott, Colonel Lamb and others. At last a 
rough looking, masterful man came in, and as he 
passed through on his way to the long room, some 
one said : 

“ Halloa, Sears ; what are you going to do about 
that article about Doctor Cooper ? ” 

“ I guess we’ll follow the advice of the Philadelphia 
folk and get rid of him. It’s a nice night for rid- 
ing,” he ended, with a wink and a coarse laugh. 

His meaning was too apparent. Pierre’s blood 
boiled at the thought of the venerable Doctor, his 
friend, being ridden on a rail. He excused himself 
to Humphreys and left the place quietly and quickly, 
starting on a run toward the college. He called to the 
watchman to close his gates as he rushed through, 
ran into the college building and knocked at the door 
of his old preceptor. 

“ Doctor Cooper! ” he called; “ are you in bed, sir? 
Get up ; there’s no time to be lost ; they’re coming here 
to ride you out of town.” 

“ Who is it ? ” called a sleepy and startled voice ; 
and in a minute the night-capped head of the president 
appeared at the door. 

Pierre explained quickly while the president dressed. 
At last they heard a murmur of voices in the distance ; 
and the Doctor, grabbing up his wig and not yet fully 


188 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


dressed, came at Pierre’s urgent call and the two fled 
from the house. As they approached the gateway, 
they heard the watchman parleying with several per- 
sons outside. They, themselves, could not be seen in 
the darkness ; but they waited until they heard threats 
to break in the gate. Pierre remembered his college 
days and the place where he and others had come into 
the grounds after hours. He took the Doctor by the 
hand, whispered, “ Follow me, sir ” ; and the two fled 
under cover of the darkness. They came to a place 
where by means of two trees the wall could be easily 
scaled ; and Pierre, giving the Doctor a helping hand, 
soon had him, as well as himself, over the wall. By 
this time they could hear the crowd at the gate de- 
manding admission and finally forcing their way in. 
The two now turned toward the river and kept along 
its bank until they came to the house of Mr. Stuyves- 
ant, who at once admitted them and gave the Doctor 
refuge. 

“ God bless you, my son,” exclaimed the president, 
as Pierre took his departure. “ I have cast my bread 
upon the waters, and it has indeed returned to me 
after many days.” 

The Doctor remained hidden in the Stuyvesant 
house for several days; then through Pierre having 
communicated his plight to the captain of the Asia , 
a British vessel of war, a boat was sent for the refugee 
and he was taken aboard to safety. 

After a few weeks affairs apparently settled down 
once more to their former basis, though the Liberty 


COMING EVENTS 


189 


Boys kept up their agitation and formed companies of 
militia which styled themselves “ Hearts of Oak.” 
The British soldiers were kept well in hand, and no 
overt act was committed by either side. That an open 
rupture was not expected and that the leaders were 
trimmers were shown in June. Washington had been 
appointed commander-in-chief of the army and passed 
through the city with Generals Charles Lee and Philip 
Schuyler. The Provincial Assembly received them 
with an escort of provincial troops and all the honors. 
On the afternoon of the same day, the royal governor 
of the Province, William Tryon, returned from Eng- 
land and similar honors were paid to him. 

Colonel Philipse usually retired to his manor on the 
Hudson early in the spring, but the disturbed state 
of affairs in the city kept him in town until the month 
of May. It was not until the early part of that month 
that he decided it would be safe to send his vessels 
to sea, and it was not therefore until about the tenth 
that Pierre sailed in the Nepperhaem for England and 
a cruise in the Baltic. During these weeks of waiting, 
his thoughts kept reverting to Lucie de bon Repos, of 
whom he heard as attending upon the sick bed of her 
mother. His heart went out to her in tenderness and 
pity, but he knew this was no time to press upon her 
his feelings and desires. Before sailing he sent her 
a letter of sympathy and farewell, but carefully re- 
frained from making any allusion to the change in his 
feeling; and Lucie sent him a letter in return which 
told him of her mother’s illness and of her father’s dis- 


190 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


tress and misery at the prospective loss of his wife; 
for she admitted to him in the closeness of her friend- 
ship that there was no hope for the stricken sufferer. 
Though Pierre read and reread the letter, hoping to 
find some indication of the writer’s feeling for himself, 
he could discover nothing but the outpouring of an 
anxious and ingenuous heart, glad to relieve itself in 
imparting its hopes and fears to one in whom Lucie 
showed she had the greatest esteem and confidence, 
and who, she knew, would sympathize with her on 
account of his own love for the dying patient. 

Heavy-hearted, both on account of his love and of 
his fears for the outcome of affairs in the colony, 
Pierre sailed away. Could he have looked but a short 
time into the future, he would have been even more 
disturbed than he was; for a month after his de- 
parture, his sister, Sarah Husted, disappeared from 
her home, leaving no sign by which she could be 
traced. 


CHAPTER XIII 


HOSTILITIES 

The N epperhaem was delayed by calms and adverse 
winds, so that it was late summer before she reached 
the Baltic. Here one delay after another occurred 
until she was frozen in the port of Riga, where she 
had to stay during the winter. Upon her return to 
England in the spring of 1776, the vessel was detained 
by the British authorities, and the officers and crew 
learned of the state of affairs in the colonies and o£ 
the determination of the King and ministry to crush 
the rebellion in America at any cost. The cargo of 
naval stores was seized for the use of the British navy ; 
but before it was transferred, news came of the evacua- 
tion of Boston by Sir William Howe ; and preparations 
were at once begun to increase the fleet and army 
intended for service in America. The Nepperhaem 
was impressed into the fleet to carry her supplies to 
New York; but it was some weeks after the sailing 
of the ships of war when the N epperhaem and many 
other vessels carrying supplies sailed under convoy 
of several British frigates. As the speed of the con- 
voy was that of its slowest vessel, it was the seven- 
teenth of August before its arrival in the harbor of 
New York. 

Pierre gazed with admiration at the mighty fleet 
191 


192 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


of Great Britain which was gathered there under the 
command of Admiral Lord Howe, and at the hills 
of Staten Island, dotted with the white tents of an 
army of twenty-five thousand regular troops. He 
could not help wondering at the temerity of the 
Americans in attempting to withstand the power of 
the mightiest nation on earth, forgetting that the 
Colonists were of the same nation, animated by the 
same spirit, by the same courage, by the same history 
and traditions and by the same training in law and 
liberty — all reinforced by the energy and ingenuity of 
a pioneer life in a new land. That these rebels could 
withstand the might of England for eight years and 
conduct a war to a successful issue never for a 
moment entered his head. His duty to his employer 
required that he should communicate with him, if pos- 
sible, and he went about it as speedily as he could, 
first sending a letter to Governor Tryon telling who he 
was and giving his reasons for addressing him. In 
reply he received an order to report on board -the flag- 
ship a couple of days after he had sent his commu- 
nication. 

When Pierre reached the side of the flagship, he 
found a number of boats blocking his way, and so, 
perforce, was obliged to wait his turn at the gangway. 
Upon mounting the side, he was met by the officer of 
the deck who haughtily asked him his business. 

“ I come by request of Governor Tryon,” he an- 
swered. 


HOSTILITIES 


193 


“ Oh ! all right, sir. The name, please ? Orderly, 
announce Mr. Husted of the Nepperhaem to his ex- 
cellency, Governor Tryon.” 

After waiting some time, Pierre was ushered into 
the cabin of the Admiral. Here he found Lord Howe, 
Governor Tryon, and another officer with open coat 
stretched indolently near an open port where a breeze 
somewhat tempered the August heat. Several officers 
acting as secretaries sat at the cabin table which was 
covered with maps and papers, and orderlies were con- 
stantly entering and leaving with messages and papers. 
Seated at the head of the table was a fine-looking 
officer of dark complexion, whom Pierre readily sur- 
mised was Lord Howe, the “ Black Dick ” of his ad- 
miring crews. Pierre stood quietly waiting until some 
one should address him. The Admiral was looking 
over some papers at the time of his entrance, but 
after a minute or so, cried peremptorily : 

“ Where is that man Husted ? Orderly, didn’t I tell 
you to show him in? What the devil do you mean 
by keeping me waiting?” 

“ I am ‘ that man Husted/ my lord. I have been 
waiting several minutes.” 

All looked up at the sound of the quiet well-bred 
tones; and the Admiral, after a glance at the hand- 
some, gentlemanly young fellow, changed his manner 
to one of courtesy, though his tone showed the sur- 
prise he felt at Pierre’s appearance and manner. 

“ O ! I beg your pardon, Mr. Husted. Pray be 


194 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


seated/’ and he motioned to a chair at his elbow, 
which Pierre at once occupied. “ We have considered 
the letter you sent to his excellency, Governor Tryon, 
and think that the request you make is a reasonable 
one ; but first, I wish to ask you an embarrassing ques- 
tion : are you a rebel or a loyalist ? ” 

“ I am a loyalist, my lord.” 

“ That is well, sir. Then we may talk freely to you. 
Governor Tryon is well acquainted with your employer, 
Colonel Philipse, and realizes the importance of keep- 
ing a gentleman of his standing and influence loyal 
to his majesty’s cause. While we can see no absolute 
necessity for your going to New York, we think that 
Colonel Philipse will consider our permitting you to go 
as an act of courtesy on our part and an intent by 
the officers of his majesty to protect and further the 
interests of those who are loyal to the crown. We 
shall, therefore, send a flag of truce to the rebel 
authorities asking that you be permitted to land on a 
matter of business in connection with Colonel Philipse. 
Our advices show that they are as anxious to secure 
him to the rebel cause as we are to secure him to ours ; 
and we doubt not they will be pleased to admit you 
within their lines, if it be on a matter connected with 
his interests. Ross,” he said, turning to one of his 
secretaries, “ write a letter to the rebel commander 
asking him to permit Mr. Pierre Husted to land and 
communicate with his employer, Colonel Philipse, on 
a matter of urgent business.” 

“ And, Ross,” interrupted the indolent gentleman 


HOSTILITIES 195 

lolling in the port, “ be sure to address it to General 
Washington.” 

Ross replied, “ Aye, aye, Sir William,” while the 
others laughed; for they remembered how only a few 
days before their plan to withhold any recognition of 
Washington’s rank and title had been rendered abortive 
by the quiet firmness of the American commander-in- 
chief in refusing to receive any communications from 
them unless addressed to him as General. In a few 
minutes the letter was ready, and then the Admiral 
said, as he bade Pierre good-bye : « 

“ Unless you desire it, Mr. Husted, you need not 
return to the fleet. Perhaps, it would be better for 
you not to do so ; for we are assured of the loyalty o£ 
every one here, and the more loyal gentlemen ” (with 
a bow) “ there are ashore, the better will it be for the 
cause of his majesty.” 

“ I shall act on your suggestion, my lord ; and if you 
will give me an hour’s time, I shall be ready with my 
luggage.” 

“ Very well, sir. Report here in an hour and the 
flagboat will be ready. Good morning, sir.” 

Pierre withdrew from the interview with the British 
leaders, feeling that the interests of King George were 
in safe hands, so far do a little tact and courtesy go 
in dealing with one’s inferiors. Within the hour he 
had packed up all his things on the Nepperhaem and 
reported on board the flagship, whence in a few min- 
utes the truce boat left in charge of an officer, a lieu- 
tenant, who lightened the four-rnile pull to the city 


196 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


by recounting his experiences in various parts of the 
globe, interspersed with comments on the beauty and 
magnificence of the harbor, which, he declared, was 
the finest he had ever been in. As they approached the 
Battery, they could see an officer with a flag come 
down to meet them. The British officer presented his 
packet of letters, which the American said he would at 
once forward to headquarters; in the meanwhile, the 
boat was held at the landing place closely watched by 
several sentries who saw that no one landed, but be- 
tween whom and the sailors there occurred a lot of 
good-natured chaffing. Probably an hour and a half 
had passed when an orderly rode down and delivered 
some papers to the American officer. He passed one 
to Pierre, who, upon opening it, found it to read : 

“Hd qrs . New Y k , Aug. 20th, 1776. 

Permiss" is hereby Granted to Pierre Husted, an Employee 
of Coll. Fred k Philipse, to pass within y e Lines; Provided he 
does nothing unfriendly to y e Cause of American Liberty. 

By Direct" of y e Comd r -in-Chief. 

Israel Putnam, 

M-Gen 1 .” 

Pierre bade good-bye to the British officer, called a 
porter to carry his luggage and walked to his old 
quarters in Beaver Street, hoping to find his friend 
David Humphreys; but the Widow Ten Eyck in- 
formed him that David had left at the prospect of war 
and had joined a regiment from his native state of 
Connecticut. The house was occupied by a number 
of American officers, but room was made by the widow 


hostilities 


197 


for her old lodger. Pierre then went to the counting- 
house and was so fortunate as to find his employer in. 
They withdrew into the Colonel’s private office, and 
Pierre delivered to the Colonel the papers of the Nep- 
perhaem and told of the occurrences of the voyage and 
the seizure of her cargo for the use of the British 
navy. Pierre also conveyed to the Colonel the ex- 
pressions of esteem of Lord Howe and his brother, Sir 
William, and their assurances of his being remunerated 
for any losses he might sustain in the seizure of his 
vessel, and her cargo. He followed his report up by 
making inquiries in regard to the condition of affairs 
in New York, but found the Colonel was guarded in 
his replies. 

“ Affairs are pretty bad here, Mr. Husted,” said the 
Colonel, squinting at Pierre in his near-sighted way; 
“ and business is at a standstill. A great many of the 
substantial, conservative men who united in the peti- 
tion to the King for a redress of our grievances think 
that the colonies have gone too far in their declaration 
of independence from the mother-country, and that 
had the King and Parliament been given time enough, 
they would have recognized our constitutional rights 
as British subjects. They think the radicals and the 
Congress have been too precipitate in beginning a war 
against the home government.” 

Pierre looked at the Colonel, but could learn nothing 
by the ship-owner’s expression as to what his own 
ideas might be; the Colonel used the non-committal 
“ they.” Presently he resumed : 


198 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 

“ Personally, Mr. Husted, I have been treated with 
the utmost consideration by the authorities of the new 
government and my advice and opinions have been 
asked for ; but I have too much at stake to imperil it by 
active participation in a doubtful case. Still, I do not 
wish the rebels any disaster nor would I do anything 
to bring misfortune to them. The colonies flourished 
under English rule for more than a century, and 
why they should wish to upset things the way they 
have done, I cannot understand. Perhaps,” he added 
hastily, as if fearing he had gone too far, “ what they 
have to offer as a substitute for former conditions may 
be better — I am not saying it is not — but I am too old 
a man to look upon changes without suspicion and 
examination. In any case, America is assured of 
great suffering and unhappiness.” 

Pierre was astonished that his employer should talk 
to him in this way ; but it soon dawned upon him that 
the Colonel had been worried by the state of affairs 
and that he found a certain relief in unburdening him- 
self in the privacy of his own office to one whom he 
esteemed and trusted and upon whose faith not to 
repeat he could rely, who was, also, to a certain ex- 
tent, a stranger, having been away for over a year. 

“ What will be the result of this investment of New 
York by the British?” asked Pierre. “Will Sir 
William Howe turn the tables upon his adversary and 
compel him to evacuate New York as Washington 
compelled him to leave Boston ? ” 

“ That is a hard question to answer. Washington 


HOSTILITIES 199 

is on the defensive in a fortified position, which is in 
his favor; but his army is poorly equipped and ill- 
supplied with everything necessary for an army; am- 
munition, arms, shoes, clothing, blankets, medicines — 
in fact, everything that the British have in excess. 
The American army consists ostensibly of over twenty 
thousand men ; but the greater part of these are unre- 
liable, thieving militia who are always clamoring to 
go home, and when they do, usually take with them 
everything portable they can lay their hands on.” 

Pierre was a little amused at the Colonel’s vehe- 
mence ; but he learned later that the Colonel was speak- 
ing from sad experience. The Colonel, in conclusion, 
informed him that there was at present no need for his 
services and that the best thing for him to do was to 
go home and await further developments. Pierre 
accordingly strolled out into the streets, and he ob- 
served everywhere a lack of business life and activity, 
except at the taverns. The business houses wore a de- 
serted look, and the merchants and their clerks seemed 
to have no immediate objects in life but to kill time and 
try to keep cool on this hot August day. The streets 
were full of small groups of men, looking about them 
with undisguised interest ; evidently strangers by their 
manners and talk, whom Pierre surmised were soldiers 
of the army of the Congress, though there was nothing 
about them except their guns and powder-flasks to 
differentiate them from civilians. Occasionally he saw 
other groups, much smaller in number, who were 
dressed in some semblance of a uniform of buff and 


200 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


blue, whom he judged to be regulars of the Continental 
army. After his dinner at the Widow Ten Eyck’s, he 
walked down to the waterfront on the East River to 
see what chance there was of his getting a boat to 
Westchester. As he reached the ferry to Brooklyn, 
his attention was drawn to a group of five mounted 
gentlemen who cantered to the ferry-slip. One of 
them who rode slightly in advance was a tall, digni- 
fied man of middle age who rode his horse as if he 
and the animal he bestrode were one, instead of two 
separate entities. Pierre felt a tingling sensation of 
awe and respect as he gazed upon the calm, stern 
features of the rider with their air of command and 
perfect self-mastery. It did not need the cold looks 
of dislike of the shop-keepers and the enthusiastic 
cheers of the populace to tell him that he was look- 
ing upon the American commander-in-chief, General 
Washington. Pierre wondered vaguely whether the 
man before him had any sense of humor ; but while he 
watched the party embark on the broad, flat scow 
which served as a ferryboat, one of the aides said 
something to Washington, whereat his face lighted up 
with a smile which transfigured it for an instant with 
an air of gentleness and kindliness that startled Pierre ; 
but the set air returned so quickly that Pierre almost 
believed that he had imagined the change. From the 
conversation about him, Pierre learned that the Gen- 
eral and his staff were going to Brooklyn to examine 
the fortifications there and that the carelessly dressed 
and slouchy looking officer with Washington was the 


HOSTILITIES 


201 


Englishman, General Charles Lee; the other portly, 
oldish-looking man was General Israel Putnam and 
the younger officers were aides-de-camp. 

From some of the people about the quay, Pierre 
learned that Jim Bowne ran his sloop every day from 
Westchester and that others came irregularly with sup- 
plies for the city. Bowne would be in the next day, so 
Pierre determined to wait for him instead of hiring 
a horse to ride to Westchester, with the probability of 
being stopped constantly by outposts and pickets of 
the army. In the evening, he called at several of the 
coffee-houses where he had formerly gathered with his 
friends, hoping that he would meet some of them and 
learn about the state of affairs in Westchester, as he 
had not heard from his home in over a year, not since 
his departure. He was not disappointed; for there 
were several who had been with him in King’s and 
others who were from his own county. They were 
glad to see him again and greeted him heartily. From 
them he learned that William Bayard was a captain 
in McDougal’s regiment of the New York Line; that 
Madam de bon Repos was still alive, though she had 
been confined to her bed for over a year; that her 
daughter Lucie was so constant in her attendance upon 
her mother that she gave no attention to anything 
else and saw no callers, though it was reported that 
Bayard had been constant in his attention ; that Sheriff 
De Lancey was supposed to be friendly to the King’s 
cause, as were all his family, except the Sheriff’s 
younger brother Oliver, who was a lieutenant in the 


202 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


Royal Navy and had broken his sword and resigned 
rather than draw it against his fellow-countrymen; 
that the pass at Kingsbridge had been strongly forti- 
fied by the rebels; that the inhabitants of the county 
generally were on the King’s side on account of the 
plundering propensities of the American troops, though 
their trade had been materially increased by the pres- 
ence of so many more to feed and supply in the city, 
and that the previous year Doctor Seabury had been 
seized by a party of freebooters from Connecticut 
under “ King ” Sears and taken to Hartford where 
he had been held as a prisoner during the preced- 
ing winter, but had finally been released, though his 
school had been broken up as a consequence of his 
absence. 

“ We’ve been having lively times, Pierre,” laughed 
young Tom Hunt, whose father owned the Grove 
farm on Throgg’s Neck, “ and our quiet little borough 
has been stirred up. How’s your family? Well! I 
haven’t been home for several months, but at last 
accounts, they were all well.” 

There was a slight air of constraint about the young 
fellow as he answered Pierre’s question and he re- 
sumed quickly : 

“ There is a great mob of militia pouring in from 
all directions to the defense of the city, and they are 
the worst looking set of gawks you ever saw.” 

“ But they can fight,” interrupted another young 
fellow named Garret Beekman, with flushed face. 

“ That’s to be seen, Garret. There’s one sure thing 


hostilities 


203 


they can do now — that’s to steal. One would imagine 
they considered themselves in a conquered country, the 
way they are looting the farm-houses and insulting 
the women-folk. You know General Washington has 
had to issue severe orders against the practices of these 
troops because he’s had so many complaints from 
peaceable farmers ; but the orders are not carried out, 
as the militia officers are equally guilty with their men 
as a general thing.” 

“ Your Westchester farmers get what they deserve,” 
cried Beekman hotly ; “ they’re nothing but a lot of 
Tories.” 

“ There’s where you make a mistake,” returned 
Hunt. “ They are not Tories — yet. They’re neutral 
just at present and want to be let alone; but you 
mark my words: if these depredations continue, they 
will be the hottest lot of Tories in the colonies.” 

The discussion continued for some time longer ; and 
Pierre, who knew the farmers of his county pretty 
well, could not but agree that, in the main, Hunt was 
right. As he walked homeward his mind was full of 
the things he had heard and full of indignation at the 
way his neighbors were being treated. Gradually, 
these thoughts gave way to milder ones, as he pictured 
to himself the loving devotion of Lucie de bon Repos 
to her stricken mother. He could imagine the grief 
of the husband as he saw his wife fade away before 
his eyes day by day, and his eyes filled at the thoughts 
of the gentle woman bearing her illness with fortitude 
as he knew she would, and trying always to lighten 


204 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


the cares and anxious forebodings of those she loved. 
His heart went out in a great pity and love and long- 
ing for Lucie ; and then there shot through him a fierce 
pang of jealousy at the thought of William Bayard. 
It is said that perfect love knoweth not jealousy. This 
may be true after there have been mutual admissions of 
the divine passion; but when one is uncertain of the 
love being reciprocated, there is ample room for jeal- 
ousy. It was with a mixture of confusing thoughts 
that Pierre sought his bed — thoughts of home and of 
his friends in New Rochelle, and of the disturbed and 
unhappy state of affairs that existed in the neighbor- 
hood of those he loved best. 

He knew that Doctor Cooper had returned to the 
college after the first explosion of the wrath against 
him; and so the next morning he determined to call 
upon his old preceptor. Upon reaching the college, 
he found the buildings occupied as barracks by the 
troops of the Congress; but the old watchman took 
him on one side and told him about the president of 
the college. 

“ The Doctor came back, Mr. Husted, and con- 
ducted the college until the coming of the fleet and 
army of the King in July. No one molested him, 
though he had to behave himself with great circum- 
spection, his principles being so well known. The 
coming of the British stirred up the people, sir, of the 
surrounding country; and Doctor Chandler of Eliza- 
beth fled to the college for safety ; but Doctor Cooper 
was so alarmed that they both fled to Doctor Seabury 


HOSTILITIES 


205 


at Westchester, hoping to be able to get away to the 
British. So far as I know, sir, both of the clergymen 
are still at Westchester.” 

Full of indignation that two educated gentlemen, 
clergymen of the Established church, should be put in 
fear of losing liberty and life itself, perhaps, at the 
hands of those he considered little better than canaille, 
Pierre thanked the watchman and left the college and 
sent his luggage to the wharf, whither he followed it 
at once. He had found affairs in New York in such 
a disturbed state that he was anxious about his people 
with a feeling that was akin to homesickness. The 
sight of big Jim Bowne was almost like a glimpse of 
that home, and he felt an unaccountable feeling of re- 
lief as he saw the master of the sloop. 

“ Halloa ! Jim ! ” he shouted, almost as soon as 
Bowne came into view ; “ can you give me passage to 
Westchester? ” 

Then he hurried forward with outstretched hand, 
and as the rough yeoman shook it, Pierre felt a hys- 
terical desire to sob ; instead, he shook the hand of the 
sturdy yeoman with so much cordiality that Bowne 
blinked at him with amazement. Pierre laughed like 
a boy as Bowne cried : 

“ Great George ! ef it ain’t Master Peer ! It’s 
durned glad I am ter see you, sir. ’Kin I give ye a 
passage ter Westchester?’ Wall I guess thet’s wot 
I’m here fer. Yer fokes’ll be mighty glad ter see 
you, Master Peer.” 

There was a mixture of respect for the gentleman 


206 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


and friendship for his former deckhand in Bowne’s 
manner. 

“ How are all my folk, Jim? ” 

Bowne gave him a keen look, and then said in a 
tone as if it were of no interest for him : 

“ O ! they’re all right, I guess. At least, they wuz 
las’ time I seen ’em.” 

His answer was so different from his usual hearty 
manner that Pierre felt a little alarmed. Then there 
suddenly occurred to him Hunt’s constrained manner 
the night before at the same question, and he cried 
sharply : 

“Jim, what is the matter at my house? Are my 
father and mother and the rest of them well ? ” 

“ They’re all right, I tell ye, sir. Git on board th’ 
sloop, Master Peer; we’ll sail in a few minutes, as 
here’s th’ las’ o’ th’ cargo I wuz a-waitin’ fer.” 

He refused to meet Pierre’s eyes, and jumped to 
assist a negro drayman with his load of boxes for 
the sloop. Pierre had noticed that the waterfront was 
patrolled by sentries, and now the one on the wharf 
came up with an officer and demanded to know who 
he was and where he was going. Pierre presented 
his pass, the officer said, “ All right, sir,” and went 
away, and he was left to his own reflections until the 
sloop was clear of the wharf and well out into the 
river. On the run up the river to Westchester creek, 
Bowne gave Pierre the news and gossip of the whole 
neighborhood, but he was singularly reticent concern- 
ing the Husted family. To all of Pierre’s questions 


HOSTILITIES 


207 


about them collectively and individually, he answered, 
“ He (or she) wuz all right th’ las’ I knowed.” Pierre 
learned among other things that, “ Th’ Morrises are 
a-goin’ in fer th’ cause o’ th’ Congress hell bent fer 
election. Lewis, th’ manor-lord, wuz th’ deleget from 
York Province an’ he signed thet there Declaration 
wot has made us all free from Great Brit’in, only I 
guess” (with a sly wink) “ we’ve got ter do a lot o’ 
fightin’ afore we git thet freedom they’re all a-talkin’ 
so much about; ” “ Friend Husted’ll be durned glad ter 
have ye home, Master Peer; ’cause his hired men’s 
gone a-sojerin’ an’ he’ll want some help with his 
craps; ” “ Yes , there’s two strange clargymen a-stayin’ 
with th’ Rector ; an’ people up Rye an’ Conne’ticut way 
are hot after ’em; think they’re such durned Tories 
they oughter be ’rested an’ jailed or run outer th’ 
State. Ye know, Master Peer, they writ so much an’ 
preached so much about th’ rights o’ th’ King (God 
bless him!)” (another knowing wink) “ thet fokes hev 
got th’ idee somehow thet they’re ter blame fer this 
hull ruction in these parts ; ” “ Th’ Sheriff’s up ter 
th’ big house at th’ Mills, but he’s a-layin’ low an’ not 
doin’ or sayin’ much; jest a-waitin’. He can’t get no 
possy t’gether ter put down th’ rebellion ; an’ ef he c’d, 
there’s too many o’ th’ sojers fer him ter do any 
’restin an’ jailin’. I guess he’s satisfied ter let others 
take keer o’ th’ peace o’ th’ county jest now;” “ No, 
we ain’t bin bothered much yit in our section ; but over 
ter Kingsbridge they’ve built a lot o’ forts an’ they’ve 
got a lot o’ sojers ; an’ th’ farmers on Philipse’s Manor 


208 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


say they’ve ’bout lost everything them sojers kin lay 
their hands on an’ carry off: pots an’ kettles an’ pans 
an’ feather-beds an’ clothin’ an’ buroos an’ beds an’ 
books an’ money an’, in fac’, everything thet ain’t 
nailed down. Th’ farmers say they expected thet 
they’d lose their chickens an’ poultry an’ pervisions, 
but w’en it comes ter anything an’ everything , they’re 
a-gettin’ mad.” 

It was after dark when the sloop arrived in the creek 
abreast of the Husted house. Pierre went ashore, 
leaving his sea-chest on the sloop to be called for on 
the morrow at the “ causey ” or causeway connecting 
Westchester with Throgg’s Neck, where Bowne tied 
up his vessels. A light shone in the window of the 
room on the ground floor occupied by his father and 
mother. It was with an almost indefinable feeling 
of uneasiness that he raised the brass knocker on the 
door. His father’s voice called : 

“ Who’s there at this time of night ? What does 
thee want ? ” 

“ It is I, Pierre, father.” 

In a moment the door was opened and the traveler 
was in the arms of his parents ; in another minute the 
rest of the family, awakened by the noise and recog- 
nizing his voice, came tearing down the stairs and 
added their pleased welcome. For a minute Pierre 
was confused by the heartiness and noise of his wel- 
come; then, he had a feeling that some one was miss- 
ing. Looking about him curiously, he asked: 

“ Where is Sarah ? ” 


CHAPTER XIV 


LUCIE HEARS OE THE “ PRINCESS ” 

At Pierre’s question a sudden stillness fell upon 
the group. Friend Husted’s face grew stern with 
sadness, the eyes of Denise filled with tears and the 
children drew together in fear, while they gazed in 
dismay at their parents and Pierre. The last remem- 
bered how Tom Hunt and Bowne had turned his ques- 
tions about his family and a throb of fear shot through 
his heart. He looked expectantly from one to the 
other ; then he said, his voice shaking with his emotion 
and undefined dread : 

“ Where is Sarah ? Is she — dead ? ” 

Husband and wife looked at each other, and in the 
eyes of Denise was appeal. For a minute there was 
silence, during which Pierre looked with astonishment 
at his parents and saw the stern look of determination 
in his father’s eyes and the tender look of appeal in his 
mother’s. At last, he heard her whisper to herself, 
“Mon Dieu! I must tell him.” She turned to Pierre 
with her hands tightly clasped and whispered: 

“ No, my son, she ees not dead. She ees gone.” 

“ Gone ! ” he repeated with surprise ; then a thought 
flashed through his mind and he started back in wrath 
209 


210 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


and horror. “ With whom ? ” he gasped ; “ Who is the 
scoundrel ? I will kill him. My poor innocent sister.” 

“ We do not know.” 

Young William Husted, with judgment far beyond 
his sixteen years, motioned to his younger brother and 
sister and the three went softly up the stairs to their 
rooms. The elders watched them withdraw in silence. 
Pierre turned to his mother. 

“ Where is she? ” he asked. 

“ We do not know. Your — father,” she faltered, 
“ would not search for her. He said that eef she had 
done evil, she must suffer the consequences. Oh ! Wil- 
liam, my husband, why are you so bittaire? Is she 
not your child as well as mine ? ” 

She stretched out her arms in agonized appeal. The 
man’s face showed the conflicting emotions which 
swayed him: love for his daughter, anguish at her 
loss, sympathy with his wife, hatred of the man who 
had taken his Sarah away, desire for revenge upon 
the scoundrel. As he gazed upon his wife, his face 
hardened with some inward determination and he said 
coldly and harshly, every word cutting like a knife : 

“ Yes, she is thy daughter. What right had we to 
expect her to act otherwise ? ” 

Denise looked at him in horror, the pupils of her 
eyes dilated to their full extent. It did not seem pos- 
sible that she had heard aright ; that after twenty years 
of wedded happiness he could so speak to her, that he 
could reproach her for the first time with her sup- 
posed sin. As she realized the full import of his 


LUCIE HEARS OF THE “ PRINCESS ” 211 


words, she crouched as if she had received a blow. 
With a low moan she threw her hands over her face 
and sank into a chair, sobbing as if her heart would 
break. Pierre, too, realized the import of his father’s 
words and was thunderstruck at the change in this 
strong, sturdy, gentle man ; but the change showed him 
how deeply his father was stricken by Sarah’s loss. 
His mother’s cowering form suddenly transformed him 
into a wild beast. With a snarl, he threw himself in 
front of his mother as if to defend her from bodily 
attack. His face was writhing in ungovernable rage 
and he could hardly command his gasping breath 
enough to shout: 

" You — you — coward ” 

As he saw the menacing attitude of his son and the 
shaking form of his wife, William Husted seemed to 
come out of a trance. The hard lines of his face 
softened into a look of anguish unspeakable, he shrank 
together as if in horror of himself. 

“ My God ! ” he muttered, “ what have I said ? ” 
Then, with a wild cry of love and pity, he pushed 
Pierre aside as if he had been a small child and flung 
himself on his knees at his wife’s side. 

“ Denise, my love, my sweet. What have I said to 
thee ? Forgive me, forgive me. I- was mad ; I did not 
know what I was doing. How could I so insult thee? 
Have pity, my Denise, have pity.” 

He had taken one of her hands from her face and 
was pressing it to his lips, while he continued to pour 
out his love and prayers for forgiveness. As Pierre 


212 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


heard his father abase himself, his anger died out, 
and in its place came a great pity. He was awed by 
this self-humiliation of the strong man; and when 
Denise lifted a face of heavenly forgiveness and placed 
her hand upon her husband’s head, Pierre quietly tip- 
toed from the room, thinking the scene was too sacred 
for him to look upon. As he left the room he heard 
his mother say softly : 

“ I forgive thee, William. Thou wert not thyself. 
Thy heart is broken with our loss. Let us sorrow to- 
gether, my dear husband.” 

With his father’s rapturous cry in his ears Pierre 
sought his room. Upon descending the next morning, 
the soft, adoring eyes of his father and the gentle 
tenderness of his mother showed him that peace was 
between his parents. When the children had gone 
about their morning chores, they told him about Sarah 
and asked him for his own plans. When he said that 
for some time to come he would be at home and would 
assist his father with his farm, Husted expressed his 
satisfaction, and Denise beamed upon him with loving 
delight at the prospect of his being home. When they 
began to talk about Sarah, he was surprised to find 
that this was the first time her disappearance had been 
discussed between them. William had been so bitter 
toward his runaway daughter that he had sternly for- 
bidden all reference to her. Pierre learned that 
Sarah’s goodness and beauty had attracted the atten- 
tion of several of the young farmers of the neighbor- 
hood and they had courted her in homely fashion ; but 


LUCIE HEARS OF THE “ PRINCESS ” 213 


her home life and training had been more gentle than 
theirs, and she had treated them with compassionate 
but amiable scorn. Several young gentlemen had paid 
her polite attentions, also; but she had seemed heart 
free of them all and had laughed and joked with her 
mother about her different admirers; so that Denise 
knew that none of them had touched her fancy. Then 
William Husted astonished them both by saying that 
he had been making secret inquiries during the whole 
year of her absence both in the county and in the city ; 
but as he had learned nothing and his suspicions had 
not been directed to any man, he had not told his wife, 
being at the same time ashamed to admit that he was 
doing anything after forbidding all reference to the 
subject. The whole affair seemed a mystery that time 
alone could unravel. 

Later in the morning Pierre went to the “ Causey ” 
to get his sea chest. In the village he found things 
going on about as usual, though he found a picket of 
American troops stationed there. These consisted of 
a company of Continental troops and a company of 
militia, the latter from Connecticut. Several of these 
were swaggering about in an offensive way, and the 
townspeople seemed satisfied to give them a wide berth. 
Pierre was dressed in an old suit of homespun that he 
had found at home, and externally he looked no differ- 
ent from the others on the village street. He had 
stopped his cart in front of the town-hall and was talk- 
ing with an acquaintance when several drunken militia- 
men came by. Pierre’s acquaintance stepped aside to 


214 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


give them passage; but one of them pushed him still 
farther out of the way. He said nothing; but Pierre 
was indignant at the treatment and surprised that his 
friend did not resent it. He jumped from the cart, 
whip in hand. 

“ What do you mean by such treatment of your bet- 
ters? ” he cried. “ You need a lesson in manners and 
to learn that the inhabitants of this borough cannot be 
insulted with impunity.” 

The four soldiers looked their amazement that any 
one should have the temerity to resent their conduct, 
and advanced with loud curses upon Pierre. They had 
recognized in the clean-cut features, the flashing eyes, 
and the voice and language of this stranger something 
different from the ordinary yeoman dressed in home- 
spun; and now, to their astonishment, the stranger, 
instead of shrinking from their menacing advance, 
was actually stepping forward to meet them; in a 
moment his whip was whistling through the air and 
was cutting their bodies with well-directed blows, while 
opprobrious epithets were hurled at them from his 
angry lips. They began to yell with pain and shout 
for help : 

“ A gentleman in homespun. A spy ! a spy ! a Tory ! 
a Tory!” 

In a minute soldiers came running from several 
directions with their guns, and a crowd was pressing 
about Pierre. He retreated with his back against the 
cart for protection, still presenting a bold front and 
menacing the crowd with his whip. His four assail- 


LUCIE HEARS OF THE “ PRINCESS ” 215 


ants stood rubbing their stinging shoulders and shout- 
ing to their comrades : 

“ He’s a gentleman in disguise. A spy ! a Tory ! 
Shoot him ! Take him pris’ner ! ” 

Loud murmurs arose from the crowd, and Pierre 
was beginning to realize that he was in a dangerous 
position, when several men with swords by their sides 
pushed their way through the environing crowd of 
soldiers and commanded silence. One of them in the 
uniform of a captain of regulars demanded sternly : 

“ What is the meaning of this outrage upon a peace- 
able citizen? Is this the way you show your patriot- 
ism? His Excellency has given strict orders against 
this sort of thing. Sergeant, arrest those four men 
and take them to the guard-house and give them twenty 
lashes apiece. Obedience to his Excellency’s orders 
must be observed.” 

The crowd of soldiers had fallen silent at the words 
of their officer and several had hung their heads in 
shame. Not a sound was heard as the sergeant mo- 
tioned to several of the Continentals, who formed 
around the prisoners and marched them off to the 
guard-house. As Pierre had seen the officer push his 
way through the crowd, he had experienced a feeling 
of relief ; and that had changed to one of amusement 
as he had heard the captain deliver his orders and 
administer justice. The Captain watched the four men 
taken away, then he turned and demanded sternly : 

“ Now, sir, we shall be glad to hear what you have 
to say about this affair.” 


216 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


He was astonished when the supposed yeoman ad- 
vanced with outstretched hand, and in laughing voice 
said : 

“ Corny Van Schaick, what a fine judge you will 
make. First, administer justice and then inquire into 
the facts.” 

“ Pierre, my dear fellow, it's glad I am to see you/’ 
Corny shouted as he threw his arms around his friend 
and gave him a hug. Then the two young fellows 
shook hands and placed their hands on each other’s 
shoulders and looked into each other’s eyes and laughed 
in hearty joy over this meeting; and their pleasure was 
so evident that it conveyed itself to the onlookers, and 
the somewhat sullen faces of the soldiers took on a 
pleased look, too, and they went off smiling, and one 
•remarked to another : 

“ Th’ Cap’n’s durned pleased to meet his frien’.” 
To which another replied : 

“ Yes ; ’n’ his frien’s a plucky chap, too ; to stand off 
four men with a whip all by himself.” 

Then Van Schaick turned to his fellow-officers and 
said : 

“ Gentlemen, this is my old friend and fellow-col- 
legian, Pierre Husted, whom I will vouch for with my 
life, if necessary. Dutcher,” he continued to one of 
his own men, “ drive Mr. Husted’s cart up to my quar- 
ters. Come, Pierre, let’s go and have a talk about old 
times and find out what we’ve been doing since the 
old days at ‘ King’s.’ ” 

He threw his arm over his friend’s shoulder and 


LUCIE HEARS OE THE “ PRINCESS ” 217 


thus, laughing and talking, the two went to Van 
Schaick’s quarters. It was a fortunate meeting for 
Pierre, for Van Schaick’s friendship and presence in 
Westchester secured him from interference from the 
local committee, which, under the guise of patriotism, 
took advantage of their opportunity to push old 
grudges and enmities against those who seemed neu- 
tral or lukewarm to the revolutionary cause. Van 
Schaick visited at his friend’s house and was delighted 
with the gentle sturdiness of William Husted and the 
sweet beauty and dignity of Denise, whose French 
vivacity had made her home so bright and cheerful. 
After one discussion on the subject of politics, the two 
friends tacitly agreed to let the matter alone, content 
to enjoy the renewal of their old friendship. 

> Pierre’s days were pretty well filled with his farm- 
work, but sometimes of an evening he would stroll 
down to the rectory, which was only a short distance 
from his home, and have a talk with Rector Seabury 
and his two guests, Doctors Cooper and Chandler. 
These reverend gentlemen were much depressed over 
their position and took the gloomiest views of the state 
of affairs in the colonies, or, as they would say with 
a sneer, “ these United States.” While, as a general 
thing, the great mass of the population was still loyal 
and respectful, their black coats had upon several occa- 
sions called forth insults from some of the rougher 
and more ignorant of the community; so that they 
were somewhat chary of going far abroad. The two 
visitors were anxious to get away; but so long as the 


218 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


patriots had New York and Long Island, there was no 
place to which they could go ; besides, they knew that 
their movements were watched by the local committee. 

On the first Sunday after his return, Pierre decided 
to accompany Doctor Seabury to Eastchester and then 
ride on to New Rochelle to visit his old teacher, Mr. 
de bon Repos. The two visiting clergymen officiated 
at Westchester, and Rector Seabury was glad to have 
the escort of a number of gentlemen and others in his 
ride to Eastchester. The Pells, the Valentines, the 
Hunts, the Rodmans and a goodly crowd of the other 
inhabitants of the neighborhood gathered at St. Paul’s 
to hear their rector ; but Pierre, after greeting those he 
knew, said good-bye to them and rode on. He won- 
dered how he should find his friends, and his heart 
throbbed with longing for the dear girl whom he was 
so soon to see. He thought of the last time he had 
gone to New Rochelle and of the resolve that was in 
his heart upon that occasion, and how it had been 
frustrated. His gentle knock at the door was an- 
swered by the servant. 

“ Mary,” he asked in softened tones, “ are your mas- 
ter and mistress at home ? ” 

“ Th’ master has gone for a walk, Mr. Pierre ; but 
Mistress Lucie is at home. She’s always at home, bless 
her good heart, and it w’d do her good to get out 
more.” 

She ushered him into the sitting-room, and his 
thoughts went back to his boyhood’s days as he looked 
about the well-known room and saw the familiar 


LUCIE HEARS OF THE “ PRINCESS ” 219 


objects. Little was changed. Would she be changed ? 
he thought; and almost in answer to his question, his 
heart stood still as he heard the rustle of her skirts. 
She came in with both hands outstretched. 

“ Pierre, I am so glad to see you,” she cried. 

He looked at her in stupefaction. Could this pale, 
worn, tired woman be the bright, beautiful girl he had 
met at the Westchester fair? He held her hands and 
studied the care-worn face looking into his. 

“ Mistress de bon Repos — Lucie,” he cried ; but his 
voice was so choked with love and pity that he could 
go no further. She seemed to feel all the sympathy he 
could not express in words ; for she raised her swim- 
ming eyes to his and said almost in a whisper : 

“ Thank you, Pierre.” 

He led her to a seat and for several moments, dur- 
ing which he tried to regain the mastery of himself, 
there was silence. Then he asked gently : 

“ How is Madam de bon Repos ? ” 

“ She is dying,” she answered in a tone of agonized 
conviction of an inevitable doom. She continued to 
look into space with non-seeing eyes for several min- 
utes ; then she asked softly : 

“ Would you like to see her, Pierre? She has often 
asked after you, and I think she would be pleased.” 

“ Yes,” he answered briefly ; and they rose and went 
to the door at the side of the passage that led into her 
mother's chamber. At the door they paused; and 
Pierre saw that Lucie made a great effort to recover 
herself. She seemed transformed, her air of fatigue 


220 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


and depression dropped from her face, and in its place 
came a look of cheerfulness and hope. “ Wait,” she 
whispered ; then opened the door and entered, leaving 
it ajar. He was still marveling at her wonderful self- 
control, when he heard her voice- saying brightly: 

“ Mamma, dear, here is an old friend come to see 
you; one for whom you’ve often asked. Now guess 
who it is.” 

“ I’m sure I could never guess, my dear ; I’m so 
stupid. Of course, it couldn’t by any possibility be — 
Pierre Husted ? ” 

“ You dear, old humbug,” retorted Lucie with a gay, 
little laugh, “ you must have heard Mary announce 
him.” 

“ Then it is he; ” and Pierre heard Madam de bon 
Repos laugh gleefully; “ hurry, child, fix my hair and 
make me presentable if I’m going to receive a gentle- 
man.” 

“ Vain as ever,” cried Lucie; and then Pierre could 
hear her moving softly about her mother and her 
mother’s soft murmur of thanks. In a moment Lucie 
came to the door, gave him a warning look and ushered 
him into the room. He was inexpressibly shocked at 
the appearance of Madam de bon Repos. She was 
little more than a skeleton, and he was almost afraid 
to take the thin, delicate hand she extended to him in 
greeting, so fragile it seemed that to take it in his own 
would be to crush it like a flower. Again, his feelings 
choked him ; but Madam de bon Repos, as she looked 
into his dimmed eyes, read his thoughts. She gave 


LUCIE HEARS OF THE “ PRINCESS ” 221 

him a significant glance and shook her head almost 
imperceptibly as if in warning. 

“ I’m pleased to see you, Pierre. What a big, hand- 
some man you’ve grown. There, sit down and talk 
to me and tell me about yourself. I see so few peo- 
ple. That little tyrant over there has an idea I’m ill 
and should stay in bed ; and she’s made her father think 
the same thing. If they would only let me up, I would 
show them how mistaken they are.” 

Pierre sat down and talked to her; and that she 
was interested was shown by the questions she asked 
from time to time. Lucie listened, too; but in a few 
minutes, Mary came to ask her something about house- 
hold matters and she excused herself and left the 
room. At once, the sick woman’s manner changed. 
She motioned eagerly for Pierre to come closer. He 
bent over her and listened as she whispered : , 

“ Pierre, I am dying, and they do not know. I 
never had a son ; but if God had given me one, I should 
have liked him to have been like you. I trust you. 
When I am gone I want you to take care of my loved 
ones. I hear that the country is distracted by civil 
war, and my dear husband needs some one to look 
after him, and Lucie is but a child. I have tried to 
make him a good wife, and I think he will miss me.” 
(Her eyes shone with the deep love she felt for her 
husband.) “ You will do all that a man can to help 
him? Promise me, Pierre.” 

“ I promise,” he managed to say, and he kissed her 
thin hand as if to ratify his words. She lay back ex- 


222 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


hausted, but with a satisfied look. There was silence 
between them, then she moved suddenly. 

“ Sssh ! not a word. Lucie is coming. Go on talk- 
ing.” 

When Lucie entered a moment later, she looked 
keenly at both ; but matters were apparently the same 
as when she left the room. She interrupted to say : 

“ Papa is home, and I must take Pierre away for his 
dinner. You must be tired, dear; try to take a nap.” 

While Lucie was drawing the curtains, Madam de 
bon Repos whispered : 

“ Remember ; ” then in her natural voice, “ I have 
been so pleased with your visit, Pierre, that I shall 
ask you to come again when I am better. Good-bye 
and God bless you.” 

He kissed her hand once more, and she gave his a 
significant pressure as he held hers for a moment at 
saying good-bye; then Lucie kissed her mother softly 
and closed the .door. Her cheerful manner she kept 
until the door was closed ; then she leaned against the 
passage wall and began to weep silently. Pierre took 
one hand in his and stroked it gently in tender sym- 
pathy. 

“ Good God ! ” he thought, “ what power there is in 
love to lead these good women to such tender de- 
ception.” 

In a few minutes Lucie recovered her composure; 
she gave Pierre a wan smile of thanks for his sympa- 
thy, and having dried her eyes, led the way into the 
sitting-room. Here they found Mr, de bon Repos, so 


LUCIE HEARS OF THE “ PRINCESS ” 223 


aged and broken that Pierre would hardly have known 
him; but he greeted the visitor heartily. The effect 
of the war was shown in the decreased number of 
pupils; instead of the usual ten or dozen frolicsome 
youngsters who had formerly sat at the dinner table, 
there were now only three, the rest having been with- 
drawn on account of the disturbed state of the country. 
After the meal had been finished, Pierre suggested that 
Lucie go for a walk with him; but the young lady 
demurred until her father with kindly authority bade 
her accompany their visitor. 

It was a bright, pleasant day, following a spell of 
hot weather which had been broken the preceding day 
by a heavy thunderstorm, and the two walked for over 
an hour, visiting the spots where they had roamed as 
little children. Pierre wished to know about the illness 
of Madam de bon Repos and asked several questions 
so as to get the sad matter out of the way at the 
start. He learned that Madam de bon Repos was suf- 
fering from cancer and that she had borne her suffer- 
ing with exemplary patience and consideration for 
those about her. Dr. Coutant had bled her and admin- 
istered those nauseous concoctions so conspicuous in 
the pharmacopoeia of that time, and his patient had 
submitted without demur for the sake of her loved 
ones. Then Pierre led his companion to talk about 
her present life. In reply he learned that for over a 
year her life had been devoted to her mother and that 
no time had been given to pleasure or to other in- 
terests ; for her father was broken-hearted and needed 


224 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


her care and attention when she was not with the sick 
woman. This was the first time since her mother’s 
illness that she had been so long away from the house, 
and even as she said it, there was a suggestive move- 
ment on her part to return; but Pierre diverted her 
attention to something else. Yes, the neighbors had 
been most kind and friendly, and her father’s former 
pupils had been almost equally so. Young Mr. Bay- 
ard of Throgg’s Neck, (“ You remember him, Pierre; 
the one with whom you had such a fight ? ” she asked 
with a smile and an amused glance,) had been espe- 
cially kind. He had sent flowers and fruit and other 
delicacies for the sick woman, though most of his time 
was spent in New York where he was practicing his 
profession. Whenever he did come home, however, he 
always rode over to New Rochelle and called upon her ; 
and his visits were welcome, as he was so kind and 
pleasant and good and he brought with him a breath 
of the outside world and lifted her for days out of her 
depression. At this information, Pierre had gritted 
his teeth and had cast a quick, inquiring glance at his 
companion, to find she was looking out upon the 
waters of the Sound with a far away, dreamy look. 
Then after a minute of silence, she turned with a smile 
and said : 

“ But Pierre, all this I have been telling you cannot 
interest you. I have been talking about myself and 
my troubles. Tell me about yourself.” 

He did not tell her that he would have been glad 
to have her continue and that his heart had been 


LUCIE HEARS OF THE “ PRINCESS ” 225 


hungering for just this knowledge for months, but 
instead he told her of his voyages and of the countries 
and people he had seen. He related some amusing 
things that had happened to him, and soon he had her 
laughing with him. She listened with rapt attention, 
and when they were ready to return she had more color 
in her cheeks and looked more like her old self than 
Pierre had yet seen her. As she rose from the old 
favorite seat of their childish days she looked out over 
the water and sighed; and Pierre was glad to know 
that it was not a sigh of sorrow. Several vessels were 
sailing on the Sound, and she watched them for several 
moments; then she turned with a bright blush and 
said archly : 

“ You have told me about your wonderful voyages. 
Did you meet your princess ? ” 

He did not understand her at first; then remem- 
brance brought back their childish quarrel, and he 
gave her a keen look. Instead of answering jokingly 
as she expected, his face grew sober and he said : 

“ Yes.” 

His thoughtful mien and his abrupt answer made 
her give a little gasp. She paled again and there was 
a little flutter at her heart which surprised her. 

“ Come,” she said quietly ; “ it is time for us to 
return.” 

He rose at her bidding and they walked back to the 
village; but each was quiet and thoughtful, and the 
conversation languished. He thought she was, per- 
haps, tired with her walk; but Lucie was wondering 


226 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 1 


who the princess could be and whether she loved the 
young fellow by her side and whether he loved her. 
Lucie let her mind run on Pierre’s manly beauty and 
thought that he would make a gallant prince for any 
princess. Pierre was thinking whether it would not 
be best to make a clean breast of his affair with Eliza- 
beth De Lancey so that no misunderstandings might 
occur in the future ; but he was too doubtful of Lucie’s 
feelings toward himself to risk it, and he therefore 
kept silent. He should have known the character of 
the young girl well enough to know that an open con- 
fession would have been best for him, and that to one 
as frank and ingenuous as Lucie, candor would have 
served him best ; but he kept silent, and Lucie received 
the impression that his heart was engaged elsewhere. 
It hurt her ; not that he should love some one else, but 
that he should have so little brotherly affection for her- 
self as not to make her his confidante ; at least, that is 
what she told herself, and perhaps she was deceiving 
herself in so believing. 

When he was ready to mount his horse, his host 
expressed the pleasure his visit had afforded, and Lucie 
said: 

“ I have had a happy day, Pierre. You must come 
again to see us.” 

He looked into her eyes to see if there were any 
deeper meaning to her words, but all he could read was 
frank and affectionate liking. He bade them both the 
conventional good-bye, lifted his hat and rode away; 
£nd Lucie stood on the doorstep looking after him 


LUCIE HEARS OF THE “ PRINCESS ” 227 


and wondering about his princess. When he vanished 
from her view, she still stood looking after him and 
thinking; but with a guilty start that brought a flush 
to her cheek, she suddenly turned and went in to her 
mother. 


CHAPTER XV 


A DISPUTE WITH THE CEERGY 

On the morning of the twenty-seventh of August a 
heavy fog rested on the waters of the East River. 
Almost at daybreak those who were awake heard the 
sound of heavy firing coming from the direction of 
the village of Brooklyn. As the day wore on, the 
heavy boom of cannon was constant ; and those of the 
Westchester inhabitants who could spare the time 
crowded to the shores of the river and gazed steadily 
through the fog toward the direction of the cannon- 
ading; but as they could see nothing, all sorts of 
speculations arose as to what was going on. It was 
clear there was a battle in progress on Long Island, 
but which side was getting the better of it no one could 
tell. Among the observers were most of the troops 
stationed at Westchester, and these gathered on Castle 
Hill Neck. There was considerable boasting among 
the militia and criticisms of the actions of the Com- 
mander-in-Chief, of whom they were evidently jealous 
as being a Southerner in command of an army com- 
posed principally of Northerners from their own sec- 
tion. These Connecticut men boasted how different 
things would have been had their own Putnam with 
his superior experience and ability been placed in 
228 


A DISPUTE WITH THE CLERGY 229 


supreme command, not knowing that the disaster that 
was then falling upon the American arms was due, 
probably, to Putnam’s fatal carelessness in leaving the 
pass through the Bedford hills to Brooklyn unguarded. 
All day long the crowds remained with that peculiar 
curiosity of crowds, looking but seeing nothing. 

Van Schaick was among the watchers, but more for 
the purpose of keeping his men straight, so he told 
Pierre, than for any chance of seeing anything. It 
was late when the crowds began to disperse, and Van 
Schaick begged for a bed at the house of his friend. 
It was after midnight when the household were awak- 
ened by the loud rat-tat of the door knocker. Van 
Schaick stuck his head out of the window and saw 
the shadowy form of a mounted man who had ridden 
his horse close to the door and was lifting the knocker 
while remaining mounted. The loud breathing of the 
horse showed that the man had ridden at a furious 
rate. 

“ Who is it? What do you want?” called Van 
Schaick. 

“ Cap’n Van Schaick, sir? I have dispatches for 
you from Gen’ral Heath. Immediate, sir.” , 

“ I’ll be down in a minute.” 

He flung on some clothing quickly and descended 
the stair. Pierre followed him and grtDped in the 
embers of the fireplace for a piece of lighted wood, 
which he blew into a flame with which to light a 
candle ; then he opened the door, and his friend stepped 
out and received the dispatches, at the same time ask- 


230 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


ing the orderly a few eager questions. He came in 
with a dejected look. 

“ We have been beaten,” he said bitterly; “ and our 
whole army is in danger of capture.” 

While # Van Schaick was reading his dispatches, 
Pierre offered the orderly a drink of rum, the ordi- 
nary beverage of the period, and asked him to dis- 
mount and rest. 

“ Thank’ee, sir ; but I’ve got to go to four more out- 
posts as quick as I can. Good-night, sir.” 

He touched his weary horse and rode off into the 
darkness. Pierre looked after him for a moment and 
then entered the house. Van Schaick looked up at his 
entrance and cried : 

“ I’ve got to go at once, Pierre. All the available 
troops at Kingsbridge have already gone forward 
under command of General Mifflin, and all the regu- 
lars at the outposts have been ordered to take the 
places of those who have gone; so I must start at 
once. Can you lend me a lanthorn ? ” 

“Certainly, Corny; and what’s more, I’ll see you 
into the village as you don’t know the road so well 
as I.” 

They finished their dressing and issued into the 
night. When they reached the village, they found 
that some inkling of what was to be done had reached 
the soldiers there ; for the orderly had passed through 
and had made inquiries as to Captain Van Schaick’s 
whereabouts. In less than half an hour, the baggage 
and ammunition of the soldiers were loaded on carts 


A DISPUTE WITH THE CLERGY 231 

and the little company was ready to start. Corny 
leaned down from his horse and shook Pierre’s hand. 

“ God bless you, old fellow. Who knows when we 
shall meet again? I wish you could see your way 
clear to join us. Good-bye.” 

He gave the order to march ; and guided by a West- 
chester patriot, the company disappeared in the dark- 
ness. Pierre was about to do likewise when he felt 
a touch on his arm. Turning quickly, he found him- 
self gazing into the countenance of the militia captain, 
a countenance on which there was something of the 
nature of a sneer. 

“ I’m in command here now,” he said, “ ’n’, Mister 
Peer Husted, let me give you warnin’. You’ve got to 
behave yo’self, or you’ll wake up some fine mornin’ ’n’ 
find yo’self in jail. Ef I’d a-had my way, ’n’ ef it 
hadn’t a-bin fer thet pass, yo’d a-bin there long before 
this.” 

“ Thank you, Captain Webster; good-night.” 

He walked off into the darkness, leaving the Captain 
agape with astonishment at the abrupt and uncon- 
cerned manner of the young man who apparently did 
not realize his (the Captain’s) importance. “Waal! 
I’m durned ! ” Pierre heard the Captain exclaim as he 
walked off to his home. 

Affairs moved rapidly. The Americans retreated 
from Long Island, the British vessels of war passed 
up the East River and three of them passed through 
Hell Gate and anchored in the Sound, the British army 
made preparations for crossing from Long Island, and 


232 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


Washington, fearing that he would be cut off within 
the city of New York, fell back to the upper part of 
the island of Manhattan. Now that misfortune was 
happening to his countrymen, Pierre felt his sym- 
pathy go out to them strongly, and he had begun to 
ask himself whether it was not his duty to join them. 
It looked to him, as to every one else, that the rebellion 
was about to be crushed and that it would be impossi- 
ble for Washington to save his army from capture or 
destruction by the magnificent army under command 
of Sir William Howe. He would wait until the crops 
were all garnered, and then he could leave his father 
without putting him to inconvenience. The daily re- 
ports of outrages upon the unoffending farmers of the 
county by the marauding militia roused his indigna- 
tion and shook his half-made resolution to come to a 
decision later. Two events, however, which hap- 
pened closely determined him on his line of action, 
though the latter of the two moved him to the depths 
of his soul. 

On the Sunday following the battle of Long Island, 
the three clergymen conducted the service in St. Peter’s. 
It was remarked that several of the soldiers, including 
their captain, attended the church. As they had not 
done so before, it was feared that they were there for 
the purpose of making a disturbance of some kind, and 
many times the officiating clergymen looked in their 
direction, but the service continued in proper course 
until the reading of the prayer for the King. As Doc- 
tor Seabury read in full, round voice the prayer for 


A DISPUTE WITH THE CLERGY 233 

“ our gracious sovereign, George the Third, King of 
Great Britain, Ireland and France, and Defender of 
the Faith,” a noise was heard from the position occu- 
pied by the soldiers, and Captain Webster was seen to 
rise in his place. 

“ Stop it, parson,” he shouted ; “ we don’t pray for 
no King George nor no other king whatsoever.” 

“ Who is it dares to interfere with the peace and 
worship in God’s house ? ” thundered the indignant 
Rector. 

“ Me; Cap’n Webster of the Continental army.” 

Several of the men in the congregation had risen in 
wrath and excitement; but the Rector waved to them 
gently and said : 

“ Please be seated, gentlemen. This is the house of 
God, my master, and I am his servant to do his work 
here.” 

His calm voice and unruffled manner awed them and 
they reseated themselves. Then the Rector said : 

“ My dear brethren we will resume this service which 
has been so rudely and sacrilegiously interrupted,” and 
he began to read the same prayer ; but when lie reached 
the name and titles of the King, once more Webster 
shouted angrily: 

“ I told you to stop that, parson. Ef you want to 
pray fer anybody, pray fer th’ Continental Congress; 
thet’s th’ only ‘ gracious sov’ren ’ thet we reco’nize.” 

“Captain Webster, God’s house during divine serv- 
ice is no place and this is no time to introduce politics. 
If the method of conducting these services to Almighty 


234 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


God in conformance with the canons of the Estab- 
lished Church is not to your liking, you are at perfect 
liberty to withdraw and leave this congregation to 
their devotions in accordance with their consciences 
and with the forms as by law established.” 

He waited for fully a minute, looking rebukingly at 
the militia captain. The latter was a man of but little 
education, “clothed in a little, brief authority;” and 
the steady gaze of the Rector disconcerted him and he 
sat down. For the third time, the minister proceeded 
with the prayer for the King and royal family; and 
for the third time Webster interrupted; but the minis- 
ter kept on as if he did not hear the interruption. 
Webster and his companions left the church noisily, 
but at the door he turned angrily and shook his clenched 
fist at the Rector. 

“ Durn you, fer a Tory parson ; you’ll answer fer 
this to th’ United States ’n’ th’ Congress.” 

The service continued to the end amid the sup- 
pressed excitement of the congregation. Afterwards, 
the gentlemen gathered about the Rector and assured 
him of their support, but the Rector was inclined to 
treat the matter lightly. 

“ These Yankee consciences are peculiar,” he said 
with amusement. “ This truculent captain’s wouldn’t 
allow him to utter a good, round damn , and he tried 
to deceive God and himself by substituting his miser- 
able durn” 

Though the others laughed with the Rector, Pierre, 
who was present, did not laugh. He had seen the 


A DISPUTE WITH THE CLERGY 235 


scowling face of the Captain as he withdrew from the 
church, and he felt that this was not the end of the 
matter. Webster’s first lieutenant was a young fellow 
named Edwards, with whom Pierre had become quite 
well acquainted during the time Van Schaick had been 
in command at Westchester. Edwards had been a 
year at Yale College when hostilities began, but his 
ardent patriotism had caused him to leave his studies 
and take to the sword. He had little respect for 
patriots of the Webster stamp and none whatever for 
their methods, but his idea of the soldier’s duty was so 
high that he carried out without protest the orders of 
his superiors. Knowing this, Webster had converted 
him into a sort of man-of-all-work, and, though Ed- 
wards was the best educated and most intelligent of 
the whole company, Webster made a point of ignoring 
him in all matters where counsel was needed. 

After his midday dinner Pierre, who had been think- 
ing hard over the events of the morning, walked into 
the village to consult his friend and to find out, if 
possible, what was to be the outcome of the affair. 
He found Edwards boiling with indignation. 

“ Of course, Mr. Husted, I was not present this 
morning when that disgraceful scene occurred in the 
church. You must know me well enough to know 
that such a scene would be as abhorrent to me as it 
would be to you. If Webster had wanted to prevent 
the prayers for the King, why did he not call upon 
the Rector quietly and place before him the fact that 
such prayers would only further incite passions and 


236 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


widen the differences of the people of this vicinity? 
God knows they have had enough to bear as it is. If 
Doctor Seabury had not listened to reason, then Web- 
ster could have used his authority and forbidden the 
Rector to use the prayer and threatened to stop the 
services if the Rector persisted. If he had been obliged 
to interfere in the church, he could have made a state- 
ment to the people of what he had previously done, and 
I believe they would have been fair minded enough to 
admit that his course had been a proper one, con- 
sistent with his duty to the country, and that their 
minister had been in the wrong. But, no ; he has gone 
ahead in his bull-headed way and incensed all re- 
spectable men.” 

“ How comes it, Lieutenant, that you serve under 
such a man ? ” asked Pierre. 

“ Well! it’s this way, sir. We come from Pomfret 
in Connecticut, and Webster is a neighbor of ours. 
He had taken part in the old French War and was 
something of a politician and was captain of the 
local company of militia. When this war broke out, 
my father consulted another neighbor of ours, General 
Putnam, and the General thought it best for me to 
begin my service under Captain Webster, so here I 
am. I’ve had enough of him, however, and I’m going 
into the Line at the first opportunity, even if I have 
to enlist as a private. Why do you know, Mr. Husted, 
that I know for a fact that Webster has seized many 
articles from your farmers that he claimed were for 
the public use, and has sent them to his home in 


A DISPUTE WITH THE CLERGY 237 


Pomfret. What does the army want with feather 
beds and clocks and andirons and women’s silk dresses 
and furbelows? ” he ended with a scornful laugh. 

The Lieutenant’s admissions might have been con- 
sidered indiscreet except that such things were so well 
known. The Lieutenant might have added women’s 
shoes and stockings, pictures, chairs and tables and 
even harpischords and spinets — for the use of the 
army. 

“ What is Webster going to do about the affair of 
this morning?” asked Pierre. 

“ I don’t know, Mr. Husted. He is at the tavern 
with some of his familiars and they are consulting 
about the matter over their rum. We Connecticut 
people have no particular love for the ministers of the 
Established Church. We think that they have done 
more than anybody else by their preachings and writ- 
ings to maintain the impositions of the crown and to 
misrepresent things at home. Those letters signed 
‘ A. W. Farmer ’ stirred us up particularly, and many 
of us think that they were written by either Seabury or 
Cooper, though Mr. Wilkins’s flight might convince 
some that their suspicions in regard to his authorship 
of the letters had been confirmed. Now that we have 
two of the suspected authors under our hands, as it 
were, some of our people think this is a good chance to 
even up matters with them ; though for my part, I think 
it would be more decent to ignore the whole matter, 
now that we are independent of the mother country. 
The letters were published two or three years ago, and 


238 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


it looks like petty revenge to inconvenience and dis- 
tress respectable gentlemen and ministers of the 
Gospel.” 

This conversation had taken place in Edwards’s 
quarters; and as it had begun to grow dark, Pierre 
was on the point of returning to his own home, when 
an orderly entered and after a clumsy attempt at a 
salute, said with a grin, as if he considered all mili- 
tary formalities amusing: 

“ Lootenant, Cap’n Webster’s compliments, ’n’ he 
wishes to see you immejit at th’ tavern.” 

Edwards excused himself and suggested that Pierre 
might await his return ; and as this fell in with Pierre’s 
desire, he seated himself and picked up a book that 
was lying on the table. He found it to be a book 
on military tactics which his friend had been study- 
ing. He, himself, became so interested in it that over 
half an hour elapsed before the fading light obliged him 
to relinquish the book. A few minutes later Edwards 
returned, full of indignation. 

“ It is as I suspected, Mr. Husted, and I’ve got to 
do their dirty work. Captain Webster always selects 
me for anything unpleasant; and if I offer the slight- 
est objection, he says, ‘ There, there, young man, it’s 
good trainin’ fer a young ossifer, ’n’ it’ll larn ye lots 
o’ things ye w’dn’t larn otherways.’ ” 

Pierre laughed at the young fellow’s imitation of his 
commander, and after a moment, Edwards joined in 
with a short laugh. Then he said with simulated 
carelessness ; 


A DISPUTE WITH THE CLERGY 239 


“ Pm ordered to take ten men and arrest the three 
clergymen at once and bring them to Captain Webster 
at the tavern. If they or their servants offer any 
resistance, I am ordered to shoot — Must you go, 
Mr. Husted? Er-r-r! if you are in a hurry to get to 
your supper you can save five minutes in your walk by 
going out the back way to Bowne’s Lane. My men 
are forming now, and I only came back to get my 
pistol. O! good-night, Mr. Husted.” 

Pierre shook the young fellow’s hand heartily and 
slipped out the back way. He kept within the shadows 
so that there was no chance for any one to see him 
and gained the lane and the main road. He looked 
about cautiously, and seeing no one in sight, began 
to run toward the parsonage. He stopped once or 
twice and thought he heard behind him the tramp of 
a small body of men. When he reached the parson- 
age, he saw a light in the Rector’s study as well as 
in other parts of the house. The study window was 
accessible from the ground and he looked in. The 
three reverend gentlemen were engaged over some 
point in theology, while discussing at the same 
time glasses of rum and water. Pierre called in a 
whisper : 

“ Sssh ! don’t make any noise. It is I, Pierre 
Husted.” 

The three gentlemen started at this unexpected 
interruption; but the light shone through the open 
window upon Pierre’s face, and they immediately rec- 
ognized him, and came to the window at his motion, 


240 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


“ What is it, Pierre ? ” inquired the Rector, imi- 
tating Pierre’s cautious manner. 

“ Not a moment is to be lost, gentlemen. A body 
of men with orders to take you dead or alive is on 
its way and will be here in five minutes. Keep abso- 
lute silence ; get out of this window and follow me.” 

Though overcome with consternation, the three 
clergymen did as they were told and stepped out 
through the window. A patch of grass surrounded 
the house. Over this Pierre led them quietly until 
they came to the glebe land a few feet away. Here 
the Indian corn stood high, and the four were soon 
within its heavy shadows. They paused for a moment 
to listen and could hear the steady tramp of men on 
the road leading from the village. The sound fright- 
ened the refugees and they turned to Pierre anxiously. 

“ Do not let us stay here, Pierre ; it is too dan- 
gerous.” 

Again cautioning silence, he led them through the 
corn until they emerged in the woods to the west. 
Pierre led them through these for a mile or more 
until an opening showed them the gleam of water and 
the dark outlines of a house in which a light showed. 
Pierre told his companions to rest in the shadows of 
the trees until they should hear him whistle ; then they 
were to come cautiously to the house. 

“ All right, Pierre,” whispered Doctor Seabury ; 
“ we are in your hands and will obey orders. This is 
the Wilkins house, if I am not mistaken.” 

“ Yes, sir,” replied Pierre and then went stealthily 


A DISPUTE WITH THE CLERGY 241 


to the house. He listened at the windows and exam- 
ined the exterior carefully, then knocked lightly with 
the brass door-knocker. In a minute the door was 
opened to him by an old negro holding a lighted 
candle. As its rays fell upon the visitor, the old man 
exclaimed : 

“ Gorramighty ! Mastah Peer ; wot brings ye hyer at 
this time o’ night ? ” 

“ Is Madam Wilkins at home, Caleb? ” 

“ Yassir. Walk right in.” 

He stepped into the passage and the negro led him 
to a door whence a woman’s voice had called : 

“ What is it, Caleb ? Who wants me ? ” 

“ Mastah Peer Husted, ma’am.” 

“ Show him in, Caleb.” 

Madam Wilkins, before her marriage had been Isa- 
bella Morris, the half-sister of Lewis, the manor- 
lord, and full sister to the famous Gouvernour Morris. 
Upon the flight of the Honorable Isaac Wilkins in the 
preceding year, his wife had remained in the home- 
stead until such time as it would be safe for her 
husband to return from England. The lady looked 
curiously at Pierre as he entered the room, wondering 
whether he had something to tell her about her hus- 
band ; for she knew of the friendship between the two 
men and the estimation in which the younger was held 
by the Honorable Isaac. 

“ To what do I owe the honor of this visit, Mr. 
Husted?” 

He bowed profoundly, then closed the door care- 


242 A PRINCESS AND ANOTPIER 


fully behind him. Madam Wilkins looked her sur- 
prise at this latter action. 

“ I have called, madam, to ask your assistance in 
saving the liberty, perhaps the lives, of three gentle- 
men whose safety depends upon their whereabouts 
being kept in the deepest secrecy.” 

He told her in as few words as possible what the 
reader already knows. Her sympathy with the clergy- 
men and her indignation against their pursuers were 
easily aroused, for their case appealed to her as simi- 
lar to that of her husband. She offered all the help 
in her power, and assured Pierre that Caleb and his 
wife, Molly, the only servants she had in the house, 
were to be depended upon absolutely. When he had 
been so assured of her help, Pierre went to the door 
and whistled softly; and in another minute the three 
gentlemen had been welcomed to the house by its mis- 
tress. As soon as these greetings were over, Pierre 
said : 

“ As soon as Captain Webster learns of your escape, 
he will at once institute a search of all houses in the 
neighborhood, and this one will attract his attention 
on account of its isolated position. You must, there- 
fore, have a hiding-place until such time as you can get 
away across the river to Long Island, which, now that 
it is in the hands of the British, will be safe for you. 
With Madam Wilkins’s permission, I will show you 
such a place.” 

He called for lights, and acompanied by them all, 
including Caleb and Molly, went into the room above, 


A DISPUTE WITH THE CLERGY 243 


moved the bureau from its position near the chimney, 
lifted several boards from the floor and exposed the 
opening spoken of in a preceding chapter. 

“ It is strange that I never knew of this,” exclaimed 
the lady of the house. 

“ This was formerly a favorite place for smugglers, 
madam, and in my boyhood days I used to assist them. 
The place is dry and safe, and Caleb can clean it out; 
as it must be full of dust after so many years of 
non-use.” 

“ Fo’ Gawd ! Mastah Peer, ol’ Caleb don’t wanter 
clean out nawthin’. Ise skairt, ’deed I is, ma’am, to 
go intah dat dare hole.” 

Caleb’s fright made them all laugh, but it must be 
said that no one of them would have been overbold 
in exploring the depths below them. Pierre called for 
more lights, and then swung himself down the ladder 
into the depths, followed presently by all the men 
folk, including Caleb. They were surprised at the 
roominess and ventilation, and Doctor Chandler re- 
marked : 

“ Why ! one could live here in comfort for a week 
or more,” little knowing that that was to be their 
fate. 

Pierre warned them before leaving that they must 
be vigilant both night and day; and that at the first 
sound or sight of any one approaching the house, the 
three fugitives must take to their cave. In the mean- 
time, he would fetch them their clothes from the rec- 
tory and keep a lookout to provide them with a trip 


244 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


across the Sound, less than a mile away, but already in 
their imaginations, many more. Having seen them 
safely housed, amid the thanks and blessings of the 
three gentlemen, he left the house and went to his own 
where he was soon sleeping the sleep of the just at 
having performed a good action. 

The next day a careful search was made of the 
houses on the Neck, and Friend Husted’s house was 
thoroughly overhauled by the soldiers, who, not find- 
ing their men, helped themselves to several things to 
which they took a fancy, notwithstanding the protests 
of Husted and his son. They were too intimidated by 
the number and roughness of the men to do more than 
protest ; though Pierre started to use force. The 
Quaker training of his father, however, gave him 
pause. The Wilkins house was thoroughly searched, 
but so secret was the hiding-place that the fugitives 
were not discovered. The search was kept up for sev- 
eral days, and finally, under orders of General Heath, 
pickets and outposts were established at every neck 
and creek along the shore, and one picket actually took 
up its quarters in the house. For further protection 
to the clergymen, Madam Wilkins changed her room 
to that in which the hiding-place opened, and was thus 
able to smuggle food to the hidden guests. 

Nothing can be done at a high pitch for any great 
length of time, and so at the end of ten days the out- 
posts, finding that the British made no attempts along 
the shores, relaxed their vigilance. The Americans 
had secured all the boats along the shore, but Pierre 


A DISPUTE WITH THE CLERGY 245 


managed to steal one from the not over-zealous keep- 
ers, and hid it among the bushes that lined the shore of 
Westchester creek. He found out that the six men 
constituting the picket at the Wilkins house preferred 
the comfort of indoors upon stormy nights, and thus 
decided that the escape should be made on such a night 
at midnight. He arranged with Madam Wilkins a 
code of signals, and furnished her with a knotted rope 
by means of which the three clergymen were to de- 
scend from her window. 

It was the fifteenth of September before there was 
a stormy day, giving indications of lasting into the 
night. Pierre sent his younger brother William with 
a message to Madam Wilkins in the afternoon, a mes- 
sage so non-incriminating that the pickets found noth- 
ing to suspect, but which Madam Wilkins understood 
at once. As soon as it was dark, Pierre paddled slowly 
and silently down the creek and then around the neck 
into Wilkins creek. It was about ten o’clock when 
he reached his destination opposite the house and con- 
cealed his boat in the long meadow-grass. The house 
showed lights both upstairs and down; but he did not 
have to. wait long before the door opened and he could 
see the form of a man in the doorway. He was evi- 
dently one of the pickets, taking a look into the dark, 
rainy night before settling himself for the night. 
Madam Wilkins had provided the soldiers with a 
candle which had been hollowed out at the lower 
end, so that it finally sputtered and went out, leaving 
the sleeping soldiers and their dozing sentinel in dark- 


246 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


ness. The sentry, under cover of the darkness, fell 
from his doze into a deep sleep and was soon snoring 
away as hard as his companions, who had been helped 
into their condition by extra potations of rum with 
which Madam Wilkins had supplied them to drink her 
health, on this her birthday. 

Ten minutes after the light disappeared in the lower 
story of the house, the cry of a hoot-owl broke the still- 
ness of the night from the direction of the creek. At 
frequent intervals the scream rose trembling on the 
storm, and any one listening to it would have believed 
the bird was approaching the house, probably attracted 
by the light shining from the upper windows. At last, 
the cry ceased under the window of Madam Wilkins; 
then her light was extinguished, and five minutes later 
a dark form came down the side of the house, hardly 
distinguishable except to the watching eyes of Pierre. 
As soon as the man reached the ground, Pierre whis- 
pered, “ Sssh ! stand here and keep absolute silence.” 

He proved to be Doctor Cooper; within two min- 
utes more, the other two had joined him, Doctor Sea- 
bury coming last. To each, Pierre had given a 
whispered caution ; then he started for the bank of the 
creek, followed silently and closely by the drenched 
and muffled figures. Again the cry of the hoot-owl 
broke out upon the night, gradually retreating in the 
direction of the creek, and at last dying away alto- 
gether. Madam Wilkins listened eagerly in the dark- 
ness and at last she heard three cries of the night bird 
coming one after the other in close succession. 


A DISPUTE WITH THE CLERGY 247 


“ Thank God ! ” she cried to herself in the darkness ; 
“ they are safe.” 

It was within half an hour of the dawn when Pierre 
disembarked on the bank of Westchester creek and 
drew his boat up in the thick of the bushes. He had 
seen his reverend companions safe in the hands of 
Tory friends on the shores of Long Island; and now 
that his work was over, he felt the complete collapse 
of his physical and mental powers. He had been 
drenched to the skin for hours, had rowed twice across 
the Sound, and all his senses had been on the alert 
since eight o’clock the night before. He was so weary 
that he could hardly drag himself to the house and 
to his room. He soon divested himself of his dripping 
garments and fell into bed and into sleep almost before 
his head touched the pillow. 


CHAPTER XVI 


PIERRE GOES ON AN ERRAND 

During these few weeks that Pierre had been at 
home, James De Lancey had kept quietly at West 
Farms. The declaration of the State of New York 
at White Plains on the ninth of July, 1776, had thrown 
out of office all those who held under the Province 
unless they took an oath of allegiance to the new State. 
De Lancey had not done this; but he was too influ- 
ential a man to annoy, and so the patriots let him 
alone, and, in fact, showed him great consideration 
with the hope that he would declare for them. The 
accession of such men as De Lancey and Philipse 
would have been worth a regiment of soldiers to the 
struggling Americans. The loss of New York had 
convinced him of the hopelessness of the American 
cause ; but so long as the forces of the Americans occu- 
pied his section of the State, he could do nothing 
openly to assist the enemy. He was suspected and was 
closely watched and was virtually a prisoner within 
certain limits, though he went abroad as if there were 
no espionage of his movements. A picket of Ameri- 
cans was stationed at West Farms, principally for the 
purpose of watching him and his movements. He and 
248 


PIERRE GOES ON AN ERRAND 249 


Pierre had met several times, but there had been little 
chance of communication between them, owing to the 
Sheriff’s desire to prevent suspicion from falling upon 
Pierre. 

The failure to capture the three clergymen had irri- 
tated Webster, but he did not know whom to suspect 
of complicity in their escape. He poured the vials of 
his wrath upon the head of Edwards until that officer 
was so moved that he wrote to General Heath resign- 
ing his commission in the militia and offering to enlist 
in the Line of the army. Heath sent for him and was 
so impressed by his character and patriotism as to 
offer him a commission in the Nineteenth Regiment 
of Foot, commanded by Colonel Charles Webb to sup- 
ply the place of an officer who had been detached for 
service with Knowlton’s Rangers. Webster was in- 
clined to suspect Pierre and tried to entrap him on sev- 
eral occasions into damaging admissions; but Pierre 
had been too clever for the Captain and had covered 
up all traces too thoroughly. About the fifteenth of 
September a larger force was stationed at Westchester 
and Webster was superseded by a major, who was a 
man of an entirely different character and inclined to 
be lenient with the inhabitants, in hopes of gaining 
them to the American cause ; at the same time he held 
his men to a strict accountability for any depredations 
they might commit. 

On the morning of the twentieth, Pat McCabe drove 
over with a cart to get some millstones which had been 
brought for the mills and which had been lying near 


250 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 

the “ causey ” ever since Bowne’s last trip some weeks 
before. It was a hot day, and Pat did not arrive in 
the village until near noon. He drove up to the tavern 
and passed the time of day with some of the loungers, 
among whom were several soldiers. The conversa- 
tion fell upon the crops and the general gossip of the 
neighborhood, as well as upon the war. From Mc- 
Cabe’s talk it was plain that he was an ardent sup- 
porter of the patriot cause. At last he said : 

“ I hear thot Peer Husted is back. How I do love 
thot lad. I’ve known him sence he was knee high to 
a grasshopper, ’n’ now I hear he’s a foine young 
feller. Begobs! I think I’ll go over ’n’ take dinner 
wid him, fer I’ll git none whin I go back, fer it’ll 
be too late.” 

“ Thet’s er good idee, Pat,” said Honeywell, the 
tavern-keeper ; “ though I lose the price of er meal 
by givin’ ye thet advice.” 

They all laughed at the remark, and then Pat said : 

“ I’ll make it up to ye, Honeywell. Set up the 
drinks fer the crowd, ’n’ I’ll pay fer thim.” 

That being done, Pat mounted his empty cart and 
drove out to the Neck. He was greeted by Denise, 
who told him how glad she was that he had come in 
time for dinner and that the men were out on the 
farm, but she was just going to have the horn blown 
for them to come in. Pat watered his horse and 
helped him to a feed of hay, and by that time the men 
had returned, had washed themselves and were ready 
to sit down to the table. Pat paid compliments right 


PIERRE GOES ON AN ERRAND 251 


and left, and was delighted with everybody and with 
everything, so that the dinner was a very merry affair, 
and James and Mary, the younger children, almost 
choked themselves with laughter several times. Once 
or twice Pierre had caught in the Irishman’s eye a 
peculiar look, and when Pat was ready to drive off, 
Pierre said to him : 

“ McCabe, you came here to see me ; you have a 
message for me.” 

“ Yissir ; ye’re roight.” He looked around cau- 
tiously and then walked back into the barn taking with 
him his whip. “ I’ve broke me whip, Ma'shter Peer. 
Kin ye give me a wee bit of sthring to rapair it wid ? ” 

When they were in the barn, Pat said with a leer : 

“Ye can’t be too cautious these days. The mashter 
wants ter see ye t’night, saycrate. There’s a sintry 
placed befoor the house ’n’ wan behind, as soon as it’s 
dark. They think we dunno nothin’ about it, but 
there’s where they’re mistook. Ye’re to be there at 
midnight. Th’ mashter ’ll be in th’ back room up- 
stairs wid a loight in th’ winder, ’n’ whin he hears a 
screech-owl cornin’ troo th’ woods, he’ll put out th’ 
loight, ’n’ ye’ll know he‘s ready fer ye in th’ kitchin. 
He thrusts ye t’ shlip by th’ sintry ’n’ git ter th’ winder 
on th’ pond side. He sed ye must be saycrate ’n’ not 
git caught, ’cause it’d com-com-/>rc>mise him ’n’ ye, 
too, ’n’ might be a hangin’ or a shootin’ matter. Will 
ye come? I wuz ter take back yer answer.” 

“ I’ll come, tell him, Pat, and will be there at mid- 
night,” said Pierre, after a moment’s thought. 


252 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


During this conversation Pat had been busily en- 
gaged winding a piece of string about his whip. At 
Pierre’s answer he whispered: 

“ That’s th’ b’y, Mashter Peer.” Then he issued 
from the barn, saying loudly, “ Thankee, sor, fer 
tlT sthring. Shure ! ‘ a frind in nade, is a frind 
indade.’ ” 

“ And why should a friend in need be a friend in- 
deed, Mister Irishman?” asked a strange voice; and 
the two turned to see two soldiers in charge of a Cor- 
poral who had stopped at the well for a drink. 

“ Shure ! me whip wuz bruk, ’n’ I got a bit of 
sthring to repair it wid; ’n’ thet’s th’. cause o’ me 
remark. Shure! Mashter Peer, th’ sojer’s loife th’ 
loife ter foller. It’s carry ar-r-ms ; ’n’ prisint ar-r-ms ! 
’n’ a look outer th’ corner o’ yer eye, ’n’ ivry gurl 
widin sight wants ter trow her ar-r-ms about ye. 
Shure! it’s timpted I am t’ inlist meself, as ould as I 
am, ’n’ I’ll niver see fifty-five agin, I’m thinkin’. 
Shure! Cap’n, ye know th’ dear gurls kin niver resist 
th’ milingtary ; ye know from experience.” 

The Corporal was a smooth, rosy-cheeked boy of 
about seventeen, evidently very proud of being a sol- 
dier, and prouder still of being taken for a captain. 
Dear, innocent lad! No doubt some fond mother and 
sister had given him with trembling limbs and swim- 
ming eyes to the sacred cause of his country, and were 
following him with their prayers. Now he blushed 
at McCabe’s insinuation and drew himself up to his 
full height with great dignity. 


PIERRE GOES ON AN ERRAND 253 


“ That’s not for me to say, sir,” he replied with an 
air of being able to say a great deal if he chose; “ it 
is a side of the soldier’s life that does not interest 
me ; at least, at present.” 

There was a manliness about the young fellow even 
though he was so intensely boyish that aroused Pierre’s 
admiration, and even McCabe, joker as he was, felt it; 
for he said, respectfully : 

“ Which way are ye goin’, sor? If ter th’ village, 
I’ll give ye all a lift in me cart.” 

The boy thanked him for his offer in such hearty 
fashion that Pat felt a little ashamed of himself. The 
Corporal seated himself beside Pat and the rest of 
the soldiers crowded into the bottom of the cart, and 
with a farewell wave of his whip, McCabe drove off. 

Pierre rejoined his father and brother William in 
the fields, and though he worked steadily with them 
during the afternoon, his thoughts kept reverting to 
his prospective trip and wondering what the Sheriff 
could want of him. After his supper, he complained 
of being tired out and went off to bed. At nine 
o’clock the house was quiet. Pierre slipped out of 
bed and out of the window of his room by means of 
the branches of a tree which grew near the house, and 
started on his trip. The night was dark; above in 
the canopy of heaven myriads of stars shed their light ; 
about him was the stillness of Nature, which is not 
quiet at all, for there was the rustling of the leaves 
in the light breeze and the voices of millions of insects 
of the night. He followed unfrequented lanes and 


254 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


by-paths, known to him since boyhood, keeping nearly 
alv^ays in the shadows of the woods, where the chilli- 
ness of the autumn evening would have made itself 
felt except for his exertions. Once, he heard the 
tramp of horses’ feet on the road leading from De 
Lancey’s Mills to Westchester. He sprang behind a 
stone wall and peered out at the horsemen as they 
came near. There were ten or a dozen of them, 
riding in twos and wrapped in their night coats, 
coming from Westchester village. One of the leaders 
he thought he recognized as the superb rider he had 
seen at the ferry to Brooklyn several weeks before; 
the other was a very corpulent man, who sat his horse 
with an ill grace. As they passed, he heard the fat 
man say: 

“lam pleased that your Excellency is satisfied with 
the disposition of the troops at the outposts, and that 
they are vigilant. You have had a fatiguing day, sir. 
Would it not be best to stop at the Mills? Sheriff De 
Lancey will, I am sure, be honored to entertain your 
Excellency.” 

“ No, Heath, I must be back at my quarters at the 
Morris house before daylight. I wish to God I knew 
what Howe has done and intends doing.” 

Pierre heard no more, as the riders passed out of 
earshot. He waited until the tramp of the horses 
was lost in the distance, then once more resumed his 
way. At last, he struck the Bronx River north of the 
Mills, having made a wide detour to prevent discovery 
on the more frequented road. He began to creep 


PIERRE GOES ON AN ERRAND 255 


stealthily along the bank, gradually approaching the 
house, and from time to time uttering the wavering 
cry of the screech-owl. In a few minutes he saw a 
light glimmering through the trees, shining high up. 
Once more he uttered the night bird’s cry, and almost 
immediately afterward, the light was extinguished, 
and the owl cried no more. He did not fear his move- 
ments being heard; for the noise of the water falling 
over the dam, which had lulled him to sleep many a 
night as a child, drowned all other sounds. Where is 
the sentry? he wondered; then his heart jumped into 
his throat, as he heard the cry : 

“ Halt ! who goes there ? ” But how intense his 
relief when he heard, “ The guard.” 

“ Advance guard and give the countersign.” 

His eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, 
and he saw a small group of men about ten yards 
from him. He heard the Corporal say with a laugh to 
the relieved sentry: 

“ Waal ! ye missed it ter-night, Johnson. Gin’ral 
Washin’ton V Gin’ral Heath ’n’ their staffs passed 
through the Mills ’bout half ’n hour ago. His Ex- 
c’lency’s bin a-’spectin’ th’ outposts.” 

The sleepy Johnson mumbled something at which 
his companions laughed, and then the Corporal gave 
the order to march and the guard went away. The 
new sentry looked after them for a moment, then 
he laid his musket against a tree, stretched himself 
with arms above his head and gave a yawn so loud 
that it could be heard above the noise of the falls. 


256 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


Slowly he resumed his musket and walked down to 
the river’s bank, where he stood for several minutes 
looking at the reflection of the stars in the water. 
Once more he strolled back to the shore end of his 
beat, stood for a minute and yawned and then resumed 
his beat. Pierre watched him for several minutes and 
saw that the motions of the sentry were as regular as 
clock-work. Pierre had not been in this section of the 
grounds since childhood, but he remembered a path 
bordered with rose bushes which led through the 
kitchen garden and ended close to the river bank. 
There was a gate there, which he remembered his 
childish hands had often tried to open. Would it be 
open now ? The sentry’s beat was outside the garden 
wall. If the gate were open, he could easily pass across 
when the man’s back was turned and while he was 
yawning. Pie crept close to where the gate was and 
so close to the sentinel’s path that the man could have 
touched him with his musket if he had reached out 
with it. He made out the gateway in the darkness, 
and then his heart sank ; for the gate was closed. He 
would have to vault the wall, or else seize and gag 
the sentry. He looked at the man’s back as he passed 
and saw he was a powerful young fellow. To attempt 
seizing him would be dangerous ; he might cry out, or 
he might beat off his assailant, who, even if success- 
ful, would have to leave behind him a stricken man 
as a reminder of his visit. Besides, with what could 
he bind him? He would -have to kill the sentry or 
vault the wall, and the latter was likely to expose 


PIERRE GOES ON AN ERRAND 257 


him. Slowly his gaze returned from the sentry and 
fixed itself longingly on the gate. He saw the gate 
slowly open more than half way and then almost close. 
He rubbed his eyes, thinking he had not seen aright; 
then the same thing happened again. His heart leaped 
up; they had forgotten to open the gate until now, 
and were taking this method of letting him know. 
Once more the sentry passed to and fro, and when his 
back was turned, Pierre sprang across and went to the 
window of the kitchen. He found it open and at once 
called softly : 

“ Sheriff De Lancey! Mr. James! ” 

“ Are you there, Pierre ? Come inside.” 

Pierre clambered through the low window and found 
the room in darkness except for the covered embers 
of the fire in the great fireplace. De Lancey shook 
his hand and led him to a far corner of the room, and 
proceeded at once to the object of his sending for his 
friend. 

“ In the first place, Pierre ; are you Whig or 
Loyalist ? ” 

Pierre hesitated for fully a minute before answer- 
ing, and De Lancey seemed to hang upon his reply. 

“ By conviction, Pm a Loyalist ; by sympathy, just 
at present, I’m something of a Whig, though I don’t 
hold with what the Whigs are doing in the way of 
robbing our people.” 

“ An indication of what would happen if their so- 
called democracy should succeed ; a democracy of the 
masses and of ignorance. But they will not succeed. 


258 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


Their cause is hopeless. Their army is worthless; 
without discipline, without courage, without equip- 
ment or supplies, and officered by incompetent poli- 
ticians. How can they expect to resist the army of 
the King? ” 

“ I don’t know; but I’ve seen General Washington, 
and he impresses me as being able and a gentleman.” 

“ He is ; but one man cannot create all the things 
that are needed by this heterogenous mob they call 
their army. However, I know I can trust you, and it 
was not for the purpose of talking politics that I sent 
for you. I wish you to do something for me that 
I am unable to do for myself. After you have heard 
what it is, you will make your own decision as to 
whether you will undertake it or not. I have been in 
secret communication with the British authorities in 
New York, and I have decided to throw in my lot 
with them.” 

He did not think it necessary to tell his hearer 
that the British leaders had promised him honors and 
rewards for his services and that a title had been more 
than hinted at. 

“ The British intend to push a campaign in West- 
chester county and expect to crush Washington and 
end the rebellion at one blow. For this purpose it is 
necessary that they should be well posted as to the 
roads and topography of the county. Sir William’s 
aide, Captain Montressor, the chief engineer of the 
army, has written me that my assistance in this matter 
would be invaluable, and begs that I should come to 


PIERRE GOES ON AN ERRAND 259 


New York and see him. It is impossible for me to 
go, watched as I am; but I know of no one better 
qualified to give him the information than you. Will 
you go in my place ? ” 

Pierre took several minutes to weigh the matter and 
De Lancey waited quietly and anxiously for his 
answer. Pierre spoke with great deliberation. 

“ This means, Sheriff, that if I undertake your 
errand, I espouse the British cause and that I must 
take arms against my countrymen ; a thing that I hate 
to do. I was in hopes that the rebellion would be 
crushed before I would be obliged to make a decision ; 
but my procrastination has done me no good, and I 
will make my decision now. I will go.” 

“ Thank you, Pierre ; I knew I could rely upon you. 
You told me you had a pass from General Putnam. 
You can return to your home with perfect safety after 
consulting with Captain Montressor.” 

“ Mr. De Lancey, do you think so meanly of me as 
to think I would play the spy? When I go, the pass 
returns to the American officer who issued it. Hence- 
forth, I am an adherent of the British and shall remain 
within their lines.” 

De Lancey then gave to Pierre some papers which 
would serve as an introduction to Captain Montressor 
and a pass within the lines of the British. Accom- 
panied by the Sheriff, he returned to the gate where 
they watched until the sentry’s back was turned, when 
Pierre moved quickly across to the shelter of the 
woods and De Lancey closed the gate behind him, 


260 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


Day was almost breaking when Pierre clambered into 
his own room and went to bed for a couple of hours’ 
sleep. During the day, he covertly packed a pair of 
saddle-bags, and then asked his father for such money 
as he could spare. Husted gave him a considerable 
amount and said : 

“ This is all that is left of thy heritage, Pierre, at 
present; though there are things which will realize 
much more than thou hast had already. I do not ask 
thee what thou wilt do with it. Thou art old enough 
to know thine own business best, and thou art not a 
spendthrift.” 

At ten o’clock he slipped from the house and went to 
his hidden boat ; then with muffled oars he crept down 
the creek and along the shadows of “ Old Ferry Point.” 
He waited a few minutes before pushing out into the 
Sound; and it was well that he did so, for a whale- 
boat, manned by Americans, came by on their nightly 
patrol. This danger past, he pushed across the Sound 
and landed at Whitestone, where he woke up the Tory 
friends who had received the escaping clergymen. He 
told them briefly of his errand, and they furnished 
him with a horse and guide, and he was soon moving 
rapidly on his way to the ferry from Brooklyn. They 
ran across numerous outposts and pickets of the Brit- 
ish, but his guide was well known, and a brief explana- 
tion of his errand and the necessity for haste passed 
him along. He was so fortunate as to reach the ferry 
at daylight and crossed in the first boat to the New 
York side. From the heights of Brooklyn he had seen 


PIERRE GOES ON AN ERRAND 261 


a lurid glare over the city; and now that he was in 
the city itself, he found the streets full of excited 
people and soldiers. He learned that for several days 
fire had been raging in the city, and that all the houses 
to the west of Broadway had been destroyed; among 
them Trinity Church, but that the conflagration was 
now dying out for want of fuel. The fire had been 
started, so it was reported, by some of the Whigs. 

“ Ef they did it,” commented one soldier grimly, 
“ they won’t have ter go ter hell ter be roasted, fer we 
chucked sev’ral of ’em inter their own fire ter see how 
they liked it.” 

Pierre was horrified at the British barbarity; but 
he had no time to lose and pursued his inquiries as to 
the location of Captain Montressor. He learned that 
Sir William Howe’s headquarters were at the Beek- 
man mansion near Turtle Bay, and that he would 
probably find his aide near at hand. He passed out 
the Bowery Lane into the Boston post-road and found 
the tent of Captain Montressor in front of the artillery 
camp near headquarters. He presented his letter to 
the Captain and explained his mission, and the Cap- 
tain invited him within his tent, where for over an 
hour they were busy with maps and plans, and Pierre 
was giving the engineer the information desired. It 
was nearly eleven o’clock when they had finished. 
Montressor had noticed Pierre’s heavy eyes and look 
of fatigue and had asked him about his meeting with 
De Lancey and his journey; upon hearing that Pierre 
had only had a few hours’ sleep in the past forty-eight, 


262 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 

Montressor insisted upon Pierre’s lying down in the 
tent and getting his needed rest. Pierre was about to 
do so, thinking sleepily how differently he had in- 
tended to spend his Sunday morning in going to see 
Lucie de bon Repos, when the sound of a drum and 
fife playing “ The Rogue’s March ” floated into the 
tent. Both, attracted by the music, went to the door. 
Coming from the direction of the greenhouses near 
the mansion was a small procession, headed by a 
rough, brutal-looking man on horseback, his face florid 
with deep potations, whose eyes were roving about con- 
stantly, carefully examining every tree with a practiced 
eye. Following him were the drummer and fifer and 
several men with picks and spades, and behind them 
a group of soldiers guarding a prisoner; last of all 
a cart. 

“ It is the Provost-marshal Cunningham, Mr. 
Husted,” said Montressor; “ and from the presence of 
the cart, I should judge there’s going to be an execu- 
tion. If you don’t want to see it, you’d better go 
inside and lie down.” 

Pierre would have done so had he not caught a 
glimpse of the prisoner, a tall young fellow of about 
twenty-one, with a face so handsome and ingenuous 
that it attracted his attention and aroused his pity. 
Montressor was similarly affected, for he started at 
sight of the prisoner and called : 

“ Cunningham, who’s your prisoner ? What’s he 
been doing ? ” 

“ A rebel spy, Captain, caught in the act, which he 


PIERRE GOES ON AN ERRAND 263 


fully confessed. No court-martial necessary in such 
cases. This tree will do/’ he said to his assistants, 
pointing out a tree not thirty feet away from Mont- 
ressor’s tent; “ dig the grave here.” 

A little group of soldiers from the artillery camp had 
been attracted by the music and had gathered about 
the fatal tree and were indulging in rough jokes. The 
ground was hard, and Montressor saw that it would 
take some time to prepare for the execution. 

“ Cunningham,” he cried, “ let your prisoner come 
into my tent until you are ready.” 

“ I’ve no objection, Captain ; but don’t let him 
escape. It wouldn’t do to rob the tree of its fruit. 
Ha! ha! ha!” 

Montressor was disgusted with Cunningham’s man- 
ner, but he concealed his feelings and turned to the 
young prisoner who had heard all that was said. 

‘‘Will you come in and sit down, sir?” he asked 
courteously. 

“ Thank you, sir,” replied the prisoner simply, and 
he entered the tent. 

There was such an air of simple and quiet dignity 
about the young man whose span of life was so soon 
to be cut short, that Montressor and Pierre glanced at 
each other with unmistakable sympathy in their eyes. 
The prisoner had seated himself and was looking in 
an abstracted way out of the tent door. 

“Is there anything I can do for you, sir?” asked 
the owner of the tent. “ Perhaps you would like to 
write a letter. Here are paper, ink and quills.” 


264 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


The prisoner trimmed a quill with practiced hand 
and began to write rapidly. Occasionally, he would 
stop for a moment to think; and upon one of these 
occasions his eye caught that of Montressor and he 
smiled pleasantly. Montressor and Pierre preserved 
silence, though they watched the writer with ever- 
growing interest and sadness. When he had finished 
two letters, he asked in a voice, gentle and cultured : 

“ May I ask you to see that these letters are sent 
into the American lines under a flag? That is, if the 
Provost-marshal permit.” 

Montressor bowed his head; then having gained 
control of his voice, of which he had been doubtful 
for some minutes, he said : 

“ I am Captain Montressor of Sir William Howe’s 
staff, and chief engineer of the army. Is there not 
something I can do, sir, to try to avert your fate? 
An intercession on my part with Sir William, backed 
by some statements of your own and from your mili- 
tary authorities might, at least, delay the execution of 
his Excellency’s sentence.” 

“ I thank you, sir, for your kindness, but I am 
afraid my case is hopeless. I was taken with maps 
and plans of the very fortifications which, perhaps, 
you, sir, designed, and I admitted my rank and the 
reason for my being within your lines. I am Cap- 
tain Nathan Hale, of Knowlton’s Rangers of the 
Continental army.” 

Montressor and Pierre looked at him in horror ; the 
former cried : 


PIERRE GOES ON AN ERRAND 265 


“ Surely, Captain Hale, you must have been misled 
by your superiors to attempt a mission which seems 
so foreign and unfit for a gentleman of your rank 
and character, and to run the risk of such a dishon- 
orable death. You must regret ever having under- 
taken it.” 

“ Any act, sir, which is necessary for the further- 
ance of the cause of one’s country becomes honorable. 
No, sir; my only regret is that I have but one life to 
give for my country.” 

The words were spoken with an air of such simple 
dignity and such profound conviction that Montressor 
was speechless. Hale sat looking at the patch of sky 
which showed through the tent-opening as if carried 
away by the sublimity of his patriotism. The door 
darkened, and the three looked up to see the burly 
form of Cunningham; both the observers glanced 
apprehensively at Hale, who rose with extraordinary 
calmness and asked : 

“ Are you ready for me, Provost-marshal ? Here 
are two letters which I would like your permission for 
Captain Montressor to deliver. They are to — my 
father and — to another.” 

For the first time, his voice broke. Cunningham 
picked up the letters, read them through with increas- 
ing rage and when he had finished, deliberately tore 
them up. Hale winced, and Montressor and Pierre 
looked their indignation at Cunningham. It did not 
seem possible to them that any man could be so unfeel- 
ing under such distressing circumstances. Cunning- 


266 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


ham turned with a leer toward Montressor, probably 
expecting that officer’s commendation; but when he 
met the cool, contemptible look of angry indignation, 
he stammered half-apologetically : 

“ I did not wish the damned rebels to know they 
had a man who could die with so much firmness. 
Well! Mister Spy, are you ready, for we are? ” 

Hale shook hands with the Captain and Pierre. 

“ I thank you, gentlemen, for your kindness to a 
stranger and an enemy at such a moment. I am ready, 
Provost-marshal.” 

Cunningham motioned him out of the tent where 
he was surrounded once more by his guards. There 
were but a few steps to the fatal tree. Hale mounted 
the cart without assistance; his arms were pinioned 
behind him and his feet tied; then the young fellow 
took his last look upon earth. The ribald crowd had 
grown silent at the sight of the firmness and dignity 
of this gallant gentleman, and even Cunningham was 
subdued as he signed to drive the horse away. In 
another instant, the horse drew the cart away, and the 
body of the spy was dangling in mid-air; later, to be 
cut down and buried in an unknown and unmarked 
grave on the spot where he had met his untimely 
death. 

With pale cheeks, Montressor and Pierre had 
watched the proceedings until the fatal noose had been 
adjusted about Hale’s neck; then Pierre had gasped: 

“ I can see no more. I will lie down.” 

“ A sad case, Mr. Husted. I never met a man of 


PIERRE GOES ON AN ERRAND 267 


more winning ways nor one so unfit to perform such 
a disgraceful task or meet with such an ignominious 
death. If there are many such in the American army, 
the task of Sir William will be greater than he 
anticipates. ,, 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE TOST IS FOUND 

For several hours Pierre slept the sleep of the 
uttterly tired. His host had gone about his duties, 
leaving word with his servant that the visitor was not 
to be disturbed. When Pierre awoke, his thoughts at 
once reverted to the last scene of which he had been 
conscious. It was with a half fearful feeling that he 
approached the door of the tent and looked out. Be- 
fore him lay the artillery camp, bustling with the 
activity of hundreds of men; in the foreground, all 
that remained to show of the dread scene that had 
been enacted was the bare place in the sod, with its 
trampled, upturned earth. He turned away with a 
shudder. 

“ Have I decided on my course too soon ? ” he asked 
himself. “If I had met Hale before I decided to 
throw in my lot with the British, would his glowing 
patriotism have converted me to the American side? 
Perhaps so; but I would have been like a woman — 
letting my sympathies run away with my judgment. 
It is best as it is ; for I am convinced of the righteous- 
ness of the British cause.” 


268 


THE LOST IS FOUND 269 

He had not long to wait before Captain Montressor 
returned. 

“ I trust you have become thoroughly rested, Mr. 
Husted. I have just come from a council at head- 
quarters, and action has been taken which I think may 
be of interest to you; otherwise, I should not feel at 
liberty to mention it. It has been decided to form a 
brigade of Loyalists from the surrounding sections of 
the city and Long Island, and Mr. Oliver De Lancey 
has been appointed brigadier. Your friend, the Sher- 
iff, has been appointed lieutenant-colonel of a corps of 
Loyalists and refugees to be organized from your own 
county. It is well to take time by the forelock, and I 
think you should have a commission in that corps, 
which is to work within your own county. I have 
already mentioned to his Excellency the valuable serv- 
ices you have rendered, and have paved the way for 
recommendations from Brigadier Oliver and Colonel 
James, with whom you should get into communication 
as soon as possible.” 

Pierre thanked him and started to take his leave. 
His horse had already been brought to the door. 

“ If you cannot get quarters in the city, Mr. Husted, 
owing to the fire,” said Montressor at parting, “ I shall 
be pleased to put you up here until you can do better.” 

Again Pierre thanked him, bade him good-bye and 
rode off to the city. The Captain had furnished him 
with the parole and countersign — London and Great 
Britain — so he had no difficulty in getting back. 

It was about six o’clock in the evening, and Pierre 


270 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


was feeling hungry, as he had eaten nothing that day 
but a scanty breakfast. He stopped at the Bull’s 
Head in the Bowery; and though it was full of peo- 
ple, he was at last waited on; but it was nearly eight 
o’clock when he got away. Upon reaching Beaver 
Street and going to his old quarters, Dame Ten Eyck 
met him with a surprised cry. 

“ Lord bless us, Master Pierre ! You want a room? 
Plere I am driven nearly to death trying to satisfy all 
the demands made upon me on account of those driven 
out by the fire, and now you come along, too.” 

“ I’m sorry you can’t accommodate me, madam ; for 
I look upon your house as my second home when I am 
in the city.” , 

“ There ! there ! my dear boy,” the widow cried ; 
“ don’t be in such a hurry. I didn’t say I couldn’t take 
you in. I’ve been so worried all day that, of course, 
I had to vent my vexation on those I love most. I 
wouldn’t be a woman if I hadn’t. You shall have 
your old room, and the present occupant will have 
to vacate. Have your horse put up and when you 
return I shall be ready for you.” 

Pierre smiled as the good-natured, buxom widow 
went bustling away. He hunted up his Tory guide 
of the previous night and returned his horse; then he 
strolled through the city. The streets were full of 
people, soldiers and civilians. The taverns were doing 
a rushing business; and as Pierre passed through 
John Street, he saw a crowd of chairs unloading their 
fair occupants at the theater, while a group of English 


THE LOST IS FOUND 


271 


officers and dandies stood at the entrance and 
ogled the daughters of the city as they entered. He 
stood with the gaping crowd for several minutes and 
watched. Many of the beauties were known to him 
from his earlier days; but he wondered with a little 
touch of bitterness how many of them remembered 
him. He smiled a little to himself as he thought how 
foolish it was to blame them for such forgetfulness 
when he had, himself, gone out of their lives and not 
they out of his. An extra bustle in the watching crowd 
called him back to himself and he looked eagerly to see 
the cause of it. A chair with the De Lancey arms had 
been set down by its bearers, and from it was alight- 
ing a lady at sight of whom the onlookers gave a 
buzz of admiration. She was a trifle older than some 
of the girlish belles who had preceded her, but her 
cold, proud beauty surpassed theirs. She bowed and 
smiled right and left to friends and acquaintances as 
she walked haughtily into the theater, and the group 
of gallants bowed to the ground. 

Pierre’s heart gave a little thrill, for it was the first 
time he had seen Elizabeth De Lancey since he had 
broken with her three years before. She was cer- 
tainly a superb looking woman, and his glance followed 
her with admiration; and for the first time there 
mingled with it a feeling that she could not have 
loved him very much, for she had accepted the new 
relations between them without a sign to him, either 
by word or deed. She paused at the doorway to 
remove her wrap, and her glance swept over the 


272 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


crowd for an instant, then her gaze crossed his. She 
looked at him steadily with something in her eyes 
that he could not make out and bowed to him. He 
returned the bow, and every one turned to see who 
it was that she had thus honored, and Pierre fell 
back. She watched his retiring form with pale face; 
then with a sudden, sharp intake of the breath, she 
entered the theater, and Pierre resumed his walk. 

He was surprised that the sight of her had not 
affected him more; there was nothing but a feeling 
of tender friendship. His thought suddenly leaped 
to New .Rochelle, and as he thought of Lucie de bon 
Repos, his heart seemed to swell and burst with the 
tender and passionate love that filled it, a love mixed 
with sympathy and understanding and a desire to 
comfort. 

He was brought to a sense of present things by the 
rough curses of a passer-by with whom he had collided 
with considerable force. The contrast was so great 
between his thoughts and his present action that he 
laughed as he came out of his abstraction. He 
apologized and passed on. 

As he approached Broadway he found the streets 
littered with odds and ends of household goods that 
had been saved from the fire, watched over by tired 
women and children trying to protect their poor pos- 
sessions from the pillaging hands of thieves, who could 
even find something here to steal. On some of the 
vacant lots, shacks had been made of charred timbers 
or of shawls and canvas, and here some of the burned- 


THE LOST IS FOUND 


273 


out population had established their household goods. 
Many did not have even this small degree of comfort 
but were sleeping in doorways or wherever there was 
the slightest chance for shelter. On the Common he 
found many so sleeping on the bare ground, their 
covering being the sky itself. These were the poorest 
and most friendless. He stood looking at the pain- 
ful scene with curiosity and pity when his attention 
was attracted by voices near him. 

“ Gad ! ” said one of them ; “ she’s simply a ravish- 
ing beauty. I have watched her for several days and 
have spoken to her; but she will have nothing to do 
with me. I’ve offered to take care of her and her 
baby; but, damme, she rolls her lovely eyes to heaven 
and says she needs no one to protect her; God will 
take care of her. She’s starving, and I guess I’ll have 
to convert myself into God’s messenger of relief.” 

He laughed gently, and Pierre turned to look at 
him. As much as the dim light would allow, Pierre 
discovered him to be a young fellow, exceptionally 
well-dressed and handsome, but wearing a dissipated 
air. His companion was an older and rougher looking 
man, dressed in plainer clothes, evidently a servant or 
valet. 

“ Rogers,” continued the younger man, “ you will 
find her sleeping under those bushes near that syca- 
more tree. She has slept there every night since the 
fire. Bring her to the coach, but don’t let her make 
any outcry. These wretches are damnably sensitive to 
charitable work and they might be offended at my 


274 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


humane effort to lighten the, poverty of one of their 
number. Above all things, bring the baby; other- 
wise, I never would stand a chance with her, as she 
would cry her pretty eyes out. Gad ! it’s most extra- 
ordinary how these common people love their brats.” 

“ I understand, Sir George ; I’ll bring her to you 
within five minutes.” 

The young fellow strolled away to where a coach 
stood on the Bowery Lane, and Rogers picked his way 
carefully over the sleeping people to the bushes which 
Sir George had pointed out. Pierre watched him 
stoop and throw a shawl over a sleeping figure; then 
lift it in his powerful arms and stride toward the 
coach, notwithstanding the efforts of the struggling 
woman. Pierre could not help but admire the strength 
of the burly ruffian and the business-like way in which 
he went about it, showing that this was not the first 
time that he had performed a similar feat. Pierre 
had determined to interfere, especially, as from Sir 
George's own account, the woman was good and had 
withstood his offers of protection, notwithstanding her 
distress and that of her child. Rogers had almost 
reached the coach, when the woman succeeded in clear- 
ing her head from the smothering fold of the cloak 
and sent forth a wild cry of “ Help ! help ! save me ! ” 
Rogers with an oath pushed his burden into the coach, 
when Pierre fetched him a thundering whack with his 
cane, felling Rogers to the earth.. At the same 
moment, Sir George looked at the intruder with aston- 
ishment. 


THE LOST IS FOUND 


275 


What do you mean, fellow, by interfering with 
my servant I’ll give you a lesson in minding your 
own business.” 

At the words he leaped from the coach and drew his 
sword, and in a moment sword and cane were crossed. 
Sir George evidently thought he had an easy thing 
of it and that he could spit his antagonist at his 
pleasure. His astonishment, therefore, was unbounded 
when he felt his sword wrenched from his hand and 
sent flying through the air. 

“ You’ll teach me a lesson in minding my own busi- 
ness, you whelp ? ” shouted Pierre, wild with anger ; 
“ I’ve a good mind to break this cane over your 
licentious head. Can a gentleman find nothing better 
to do than take advantage of the distresses of the 
poor?” 

It was evidently a hired coach, for the driver sat 
stolidly through the affair and made no movement to 
assist his fare, even when Sir George called upon him 
wildly to do so. The woman, meanwhile, had worked 
herself clear of the enveloping cloak and was now ready 
to step from the coach. In her arms she held a baby 
a few months old, which, strange to say, had not 
uttered a cry, so marvelously does mother-love protect 
when the mother, herself, is in danger. At the sound 
of Pierre’s voice, the woman had shrunk back as if to 
escape notice, at the same time uttering a little cry 
of fear. Now Pierre turned to help her from the 
coach, but still she shrank from him as if to hide her- 
self. He was filled with impatience. 


276 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


“ What is the matter with you, woman ? ” he cried 
roughly ; “ is all this trouble for nothing ? Do you 
want to go with this man after all ? ” 

“ No, no, no,” she cried, stepping out. The light 
of the coach lamps fell upon her, and Pierre fell back 
a step in amazement. 

“ Sarah!” he cried, “ you!” 

“ Yes, Pierre. I-I-I’m m-m-married,” she stam- 
mered, holding out to him her hand to show her 
wedding ring. 

“ Never mind that now,” he cried with rough ten- 
derness; “ thank God, you’re found.” Then he turned 
fiercely upon Sir George, “ If I had known this was 
my sister, I would have broken your damned head.” 

He kissed her gently in sudden compunction, and 
putting her hand within his arm, led her away. Sir 
George looked after them in stupefaction. 

“ Damme ! ” he said musingly, “ this is the most 
singular affair I ever had; but Gad! what a narrow 
escape. Here, you numbskull, get down from your 
box and help me get my servant into the coach.” 

The brother and sister walked slowly away. As 
she clung timidly to Pierre’s arm, Sarah felt almost 
unconsciously that her troubles were over, though she 
felt a tremor of fear whenever she looked up at the 
stern, set face of her brother. Pierre’s mind was try- 
ing to grope its way out of the intricacies of the 
affair and planning how he should approach the exam- 
ination of the matter without lacerating his sister’s 
feelings too much. There was a feeling of joy that 


THE LOST IS FOUND 


277 


she had been found and pity for her fallen condition, 
but above all was a fierce desire to wreak vengeance 
upon the man who had taken her away from her home. 
Every time he saw the baby in her arms, it seemed to 
irritate him the more. Their walk was a silent one, 
for Sarah was satisfied with whatever he was doing. 
When they arrived at the Widow Ten Eyck's, Pierre 
took the good woman aside and told her enough of 
the story to arouse that woman’s interest. 

“ She shall have my room until I can send her . 
home,” said Pierre, “ and I will find quarters else- 
where.” 

The Widow had agreed and then Pierre went up to 
his room where he had first shown his sister. With 
woman’s wit she had taken advantage of his absence 
to re-arrange her clothing and appearance, and when 
he entered, he beheld a different Sarah from the woe- 
begone, bedraggled creature he had left there fifteen 
minutes before. He motioned her to a seat and took 
one himself ; then he said through his set teeth. 

“ Who is the man ? ” 

His manner frightened her, for she sank back deadly 
pale, and looked at him like a trapped hare. He saw 
his mistake and making a strong effort at self- 
control, asked again more gently : 

“ Who is the father of your child ? What is your — 
husband’s name ? ” 

“ I cannot tell,” she answered in a whisper. 

“ Cannot, or will not ? ” he asked. 

“ I cannot and I will not,” she replied with a slight 


278 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


tremor in her voice ; but a steady look into her eyes, 
before which she did not quail, showed him he could 
not drag the name from her with horses. After this 
long exchange of glances in which his will went down 
before hers, he said more calmly: 

“ Tell me all you please about your going away. 
Your father and mother have been heartbroken.” 

“ I am so sorry,” she said, her eyes full of tears. 
“ I did not think it would be so long before I could tell 
them; but circumstances prevented my husband from 
seeing them or writing to them.” 

“ The war, perhaps,” he suggested with a sneer, too 
light for her to notice. 

“ Yes,” she responded eagerly; then after a moment, 
she blushed and added honestly, “ No, it was not the 
war so much as other matters.” 

“ Poor child ! ” he said to himself ; “ she is honest 
enough ; but curse that scoundrel who has taken advan- 
tage of her innocence.” 

“ My husband,” she said ; and there was a world of 
tender love in the way she said it and blushed ; “ is a 
gentleman and the heir to considerable property.” 
(“ May God preserve us from such gentlemen,” he said 
inwardly.) “ His parents wanted him to marry a 
girl of wealth for whom he did not care; but as he 
was dependent on his father and did not dare to let 
his father know of his love for me, he used to see me 
in secret. At last, his love for me overleapt all bounds, 
and he proposed that I should go away with him and 
get married. In a few months he expected to be in 


"THE LOST IS FOUND 


279 


such a position as to proclaim our marriage and defy 
his father, even if that father should cut off his allow- 
ance. I — I — loved him, and I allowed myself to be 
persuaded.” 

(“ The same old story,” he said through his set teeth. 
“Curse him!”) He did not speak, but waited for 
her to continue. 

“ One night he was ready with horses, and I slipped 
out of the house and joined him. We rode to Cock’s 
tavern at Kingsbridge, and there a friend whom he 
trusted met him. They had some conversation and 
then they brought in a gentleman who they said was 
a minister of the Gospel, and who said so himself. He 
did not perform the service in English; only part of 
it. I think it was Latin he used, Pierre, because it 
sounded like what you used to study; but at the end 
he proclaimed us man and wife. He asked me my 
name and whether I was marrying of my own free 
will and whether my parents were alive and whether 
they would consent to the marriage if they knew and 
how old I was and lots of questions. He gave me a 
certificate, but before I had a chance to read it, my 
husband asked me for it and said we had no time to 
spend in reading, for we must be in the city before 
daybreak.” 

“ Have you that certificate ? ” asked Pierre. 

“ No; I forgot all about it. I was so happy and my 
husband was so good to me that I never thought of 
anything else. We had a little cottage overlooking the 
Hudson; and, at last, I knew I was going to be a 


280 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


mother and I was very happy, and so was my husband. 
He had joined the army and he said that would inter- 
fere with his business and so we would be unable to 
let my dear parents know where I was, and — and — 
then — the American army went away, and he went 
too.” 

She was sobbing quietly over the loss of her hus- 
band ; and Pierre was thinking that the rogue had had 
the decency to see her through her trouble and had 
not deserted her until the fortune of war had obliged 
him to. In a few minutes she dried her eyes and 
continued : 

“ For a time after he left, everything went well ; 
but then came this dreadful fire, and the house and 
everything it contained was destroyed. I managed to 
escape with Baby and the clothes we had on. You 
know the rest, dear Pierre. Now tell me about my 
home and my father and mother and about yourself 
and the children and everybody.” 

He told her all she wanted to know, and she was 
happy at learning about her loved ones. As he bade 
her good night, he asked her once more : 

“ And you will not tell me his name, Sarah ? ” 

“ No; he made me promise that I would not tell it 
to any one and especially at home until he gave me 
permission; and you would not like me to break a 
sacred promise like that, would you, Pierre ? ” 

“ No,” he said gently ; “ I don't know that I would. 
By what name were you known ? ” 

“ I was called by the tradesmen and the few neigh- 


the lost is found 


281 


bors we had Madam Willett; but, of course, that is 
not my right name.” 

“ Then Madam Willett you shall be until better 
times come and your husband returns. And what is 
your baby’s name, Sarah ? ” 

“ I have called it after my mother, Denise. Do you 
not think she is a little beauty, Pierre ? ” 

“ I am afraid I don’t know much about babies, 
Sarah; but I guess she is; all babies are beautiful to 
their doting parents,” he laughed. 

“ That may be so with some babies,” pouted Sarah ; 
“ but Denise really is a beauty.” 

“ Whom does she resemble ? ” he asked with interest. 

“ She is like her mother.” 

“ Then she surely is a beauty. Good night, dear 
sister. I trust you will find this more comfortable 
than the ground in the Common.” 

As he went to his lodgings in the house of friends 
of Widow Ten Eyck, a well-to-do and childless couple 
with a roomy house, his heart was hot with wrath 
against the scoundrel who had betrayed his sister ; but 
as he thought of her purity and innocence and belief 
in the rogue she called husband, he determined she 
should not know what he and every one believed to 
be true. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


the we;stchester light horse; 

On the twelfth day of October, escorted by the fleet 
of Admiral Lord Howe, the British army landed upon 
the shore of Throgg’s Neck and prepared for the final 
blow which was to crush the army of Washington and 
end the rebellion. Washington had anticipated some 
such action on the part of Sir William Howe, think- 
ing, however, that the attack would be made at Mor- 
risania, and had established strong outposts and pickets 
along the shore of the East River and the Sound. 
Hand’s Riflemen constituted the force at the cause- 
way at Westchester creek; and on the attempt of the 
British to cross the causeway on the afternoon of 
the twelfth, a spirited engagement took place and 
reenforcements were hurried to the spot by Heath. 
Colonel Prescott, of Bunker Hill fame, was in com- 
mand, and he succeeded in beating off the enemy and 
preventing their crossing. On the seventeenth, Howe 
crossed Eastchester Bay and began his movement 
toward Washington’s rear; but at Pell’s Point he ran 
across Clinton’s brigade, under command of Colonel 
Glover, who resisted his advance so stubbornly that 
the British losses were very heavy. Washington’s 
masterly retreat to the White Plains was already in 
282 


THE WESTCHESTER LIGHT HORSE 283 


progress, and his army was strung out in single col- 
umn for over ten miles along the west side of the 
Bronx River. Howe had learned personally the 
prowess of the Americans at Bunker Hill and feared 
to assault the entrenched camps of the Americans. 
Instead, he moved on to New Rochelle, where he 
awaited the arrival of the last contingent of Germans 
under Knyphausen; then he began his advance upon 
the White Plains, where he struck an advanced posi- 
tion of the Americans at Chatterton’s Hill, and a 
spirited engagement ensued. After maneuvering in 
front of the American position for a week, Howe gave 
the attempt up and began his retreat to New York, 
with Fort Washington as his objective. That fort 
fell on the sixteenth of November; Howe’s only suc- 
cess, except that of driving the Americans out of the 
lower part of the county of Westchester. 

The American forces were now in the upper por- 
tion of the county, and their former positions along 
the Sound and East River were in turn occupied by 
the British. A tract twenty miles wide extending 
from the Hudson to the Sound was unoccupied by 
either army and received the name of the “ Neutral 
Ground.” 

The news of these movements drifted to the city, 
and Pierre was on the watch to return his sister to 
her home. For this purpose, he often visited the 
water front to try to get a vessel to take him to West- 
chester; but the owners were too shy of risking cap- 
ture. On the morning of the seventeenth of October, 


284 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


his eyes were gladdened by the sight of Jim Bowne’s 
sloop, heavily loaded with supplies, making its way 
into its usual landing-place. He boarded the vessel 
as soon as it had tied up. 

“ Halloa! Master Peer,” shouted Bowne at sight 
of him ; “ ye see we haint lost no time in cornin’ to th’ 
city as soon as th’ coast wuz clear. I’ve brung a lot 
of garden truck fer th’ merchants ’n’ sev’ral o’ th’ 
farmers theirselves to ’tend to their own matters. 
They’re in th’ cabin jest at present. I’ve got your 
father on board, too.” 

Pierre was overjoyed to hear this, and was on his 
way to the small cabin of the sloop, when his father 
emerged and greeted him heartily. After the cus- 
tomary inquiries and delivery of messages from his 
mother and family, Pierre said quietly: 

“ I have found Sarah.” 

For a moment his father’s face assumed a stern, 
set expression; then a gleam of love lit up his eyes 
and he cried eagerly : 

“ Thank God! Where is she, Pierre? Take me to 
her that I may comfort her and give her my for- 
giveness.” 

The business which had brought him to the city 
was forgotten in his joy. As they walked together to 
the house, Pierre told his father the story of Sarah’s 
adventure. 

“ Be sure, father, not to disabuse her mind of what 
she believes to be true. If she knew she had been 
made the victim of a villain, it would break her heart.” 


THE WESTCHESTER LIGHT HORSE 285 

“ She will never know from me, Pierre.’’ Then he 
added grimly, “ But if I ever discover the scoundrel 
who has betrayed her, I am afraid I shall forget the 
teachings of my religion and shall lay violent hands 
upon him. My poor, little lamb ; my Sarah ; my first- 
born.” 

When Pierre ushered him into his sister’s room, 
Sarah at first shrank back in fear; but when she saw 
the love and joy shining in her father’s eyes, she ran 
to him. 

“ Father, father, I’m so sorry I have brought you 
sorrow; but now I am glad to see you, to feel your 
arms about me. Forgive me, father.” 

“ I have already forgiven thee, child ; and the joy 
of this moment balances our sorrow over thy leaving. 
Thy mother will be happy.” 

“ Come, father, and see my baby,” she said shyly. 

“The baby! Yes, Pierre said there was a child.” 
He appeared dazed for a moment at being reminded 
of this living symbol of his daughter’s disgrace, but 
he mastered his feelings and took the child from its 
mother with a mingled feeling of revulsion and hate. 
The child had the beauty of its mother; and as he 
gazed upon it, the little one smiled into his eyes, 
reached out her chubby little hand, grasped his finger 
and conveyed it to her mouth. The man’s heart was 
won ; after all, it was his daughter’s child. He kissed 
the baby gently and returned it to the mother, who 
stood by, rosy with joy. Sarah hugged it in her arms 
and whispered to it cooing words of love. 


286 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


“ Denise, my baby, that great big man is your grand- 
father, and he will love you almost as much as I do, 
my sweet.” 

“ Now, Madam Willett,” he said with softly humor- 
ous look, “ Friend Bowne returns to Westchester at 
three o’clock this afternoon, and I want thee to be 
ready to go with me at that time. Get thy luggage 
together, and I will send a porter for it. In the mean- 
time, I have some business to see to and Pierre will 
accompany me.” 

He kissed Sarah and left her to her preparations. 
Sarah went singing about her work, catching up the 
baby every once in a while and hugging it to her in 
the excess of her joy. When all her things were 
gathered together, she found she had quite a little 
pile of them, for Pierre had been generous in pro- 
viding clothes to replace those she had lost in the 
fire. 

As Pierre and his father walked through the streets, 
they were met by a gentleman, mounted on a powerful 
stallion, who reined in his steed at sight of them and 
beckoned for them to approach. 

“ There is Sheriff De Lancey, father. He wants to 
see us about something.” 

“ Well met, Pierre,” called De Lancey, as he 
reached over from his saddle and shook hands with 
them both ; “ you are the very man I want to see. I 
am at the farm near the Collect pond and I want to 
have a talk with you as soon as possible. When can 
you come ? ” 


THE WESTCHESTER LIGHT HORSE 287 

Pierre glanced at his father and meeting acquies- 
cence in his father’s eye, replied : 

“ At once, Sheriff.” 

“ I shall expect you to dinner.” The Sheriff touched 
his horse and rode away. After a few minutes con- 
versation with his father, Pierre started on his long 
walk to the farm, having agreed to meet his father 
and sister before they left. Upon reaching his desti- 
nation, he was at once ushered by the servant into 
De Lancey’s office, where he found his host. 

“ Sit down, Pierre ; I have a good deal to say to 
you and a proposition to offer. I came down from 
the Mills yesterday on one of our own sloops, as soon 
as the rebels left ; and Fve been busy ever since. Sir 
William Howe has commissioned my uncle Oliver to 
form a brigade of loyalists, and I am authorized to 
form a troop of light dragoons from the county. I 
have my commission as lieutenant-colonel.” 

“ I knew of this before, Colonel,” interrupted Pierre ; 
“ Captain Montressor was kind enough to inform me 
some weeks ago.” 

“ That accounts for it,” said De Lancey; “ when my 
commission was handed to me by my uncle, he gave 
me a number of blank ones and several already filled 
out. Among these latter was one, making Pierre 
Husted, Esquire, a lieutenant in His Majesty’s Loyal- 
ist regiment of Westchester Light Horse. This must 
have been Montressor’s doing. Do you accept the 
commission, Pierre? It is unnecessary to say how 
much I desire you to be with us.” 


288 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


For several minutes Pierre was sunk in thought. 
He did not desire to make war upon his own country- 
men, and he thought of the ardent spirit of patriotism 
that had animated Van Schaick, Edwards and Hale. 
On the other hand, he thought of Webster and of the 
outrages of an undisciplined soldiery upon a peace- 
able and law-abiding people, whose sole crime was a 
desire to be let alone. He had felt a certain amount of 
contempt for Colonel Philipse, whom he had stigma- 
tized as a “ trimmer,” and he realized that he was 
little better than a trimmer himself. Then there awoke 
in him a desire to fight, to take his part in the stirring 
events of the period ; the instinct of blood, perhaps, the 
heritage of a long line of gallant gentlemen. There 
was really nothing else for him to do. He had will- 
ingly helped his father in his farming; but his educa- 
tion had made him feel that farming was beneath 
him; and now there was no chance of his becoming 
what he most desired, a merchant. The war pre- 
vented that. 

“ I will accept,” he said firmly ; and De Lancey shook 
his hand and thanked him. 

De Lancey had lost no time, but had already estab- 
lished recruiting stations in those parts of the city 
where it was most likely to attract the attention of 
Westchester refugees. They were deep in a discus- 
sion of gaining recruits within the county, itself, when 
they were interrupted by the sounding of a gong. De 
Lancey looked at his watch and cried in surprise : 

“ How the time has flown. It is the bell for dinner. 


THE WESTCHESTER LIGHT HORSE 289 


My mother is still at the Mills, and my sister ’Lizbeth 
is keeping house for me. She has been for several 
weeks with friends on Long Island and in the city, 
but came out here when I returned yesterday. You 
have not seen her for several years, I believe. You 
will find her much changed.” Then he suddenly 
remembered the relation which his sister and his 
guest had once held toward each other, and he felt 
a twinge of compunction, not unmixed with nervous- 
ness at bringing these two together again. They 
retired to De Lancey’s room to rearrange their toilet 
and then descended to the dining room. A minute 
later, Elizabeth De Lancey entered. Pierre bowed 
over her extended hand and said : 

“ ’Tis many years since we met, Mistress De Lancey, 
and I am happy to renew our ancient friendship.” 

“ I am pleased to welcome you to our house, Mr. 
Husted, and to learn that you will assist my brother 
in his plans.” 

De Lancey had watched the meeting with interest, 
and had been agreeably surprised and pleased at the 
manner in which it had passed off. Pierre had been 
calm and self-possessed, and Elizabeth kindly and 
gracious, though an unusual flush had mantled her 
cheeks when she first caught Pierre’s glance. Pierre 
led her to her seat, and the dinner began. The con- 
versation was principally about the war and was easy 
and natural. Pierre opened the door for her to pass 
out at the end of the dinner, and as she went, she 
turned and held out her hand. 


290 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


“ Good-bye, Mr. Husted ; I shall not see you again 
before you leave. You must come again.” 

“ Thank you,” he replied as he kissed lightly the 
extended hand of his hostess ; “ good-bye.” 

The cool, calm serenity of the haughty beauty was 
ruffled by this meeting, and there was an unwonted 
tremor in her knees as she went up the stairs to her 
room. Arrived there, she locked herself in and seated 
herself near the window and looked out with unseeing 
eyes. 

“ O ! God ! ” she thought, “ he does not love me, his 
love is dead. And I killed it. There is no one to 
blame but myself. I accepted his renunciation too 
easily. I should have refused to give him up. What 
are pride of position and family in comparison with 
love and happiness ? And we would have been happy, 
for we loved each other. And now, his love is dead. 
When I looked into his beautiful, dark eyes, I had to 
hold myself from crying, * Love me, Pierre, love me, 
my darling ; I love you more than ever.’ But his love 
for me is dead, and I killed it.” 

She seemed to find something satisfying to her 
wounded heart in blaming herself over and over for 
the death of her love dream. She sat thus for an 
hour; then her vagrant gaze caught the sight of two 
horses being led to the doorway. She watched them 
eagerly and saw her brother and Pierre come out 
and mount them and ride away. Her gaze followed 
her former lover until he was out of sight ; a 
feeling of utter desolation and forlornness swept over 


THE WESTCHESTER LIGHT HORSE 291 


her, and she threw herself on her bed in a passion of 
weeping. 

♦ ***** * 

By the beginning of the new year the Westchester 
Light Horse was a well-equipped and disciplined body 
of several hundred men, all animated by the same 
spirit, that of revenge for wrong inflicted upon their 
women, their houses and their property. Their earli- 
est duty was to supply the army in winter quarters in 
New York with beef, and for this purpose they made 
raids for cattle among the surrounding section as far 
north as the Croton River. As a result, the corps 
gained the name of the “ Cowboys,” a generic name 
that soon spread to all the partisan corps that before 
the end of the war converted this once smiling, fruit- 
ful, populous county into a deserted wilderness, with 
tumbled-down, ramshackle homesteads and outbuild- 
ings, with broken bridges, grass-grown roads and 
uncultivated fields rapidly reverting to their natural 
state. The name of De Lancey was almost potent 
enough in itself, without the hope of rewards and 
privileges, to attract to the banner of the corps the 
homeless, the shiftless, the adventurous and those 
anxious for retaliation upon their enemies. That the 
corps was hated by the Americans goes without say- 
ing, composed as it was of Tories, most of whom 
seemed to take fiendish delight in devastating the 
county in which they had first seen the light, and in 
violating the homes of those who had been their 


292 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


friends and neighbors. What wonder, then, that 
predatory bands of similar character were formed by 
the Americans ; so that the county was like the wheat 
between the upper and nether millstones, the “ Skin- 
ners ” and the “ Cowboys,” being crushed into deso- 
lation. 

So hated did the name of De Lancey become that 
expedition after expedition was sent by the Americans 
for the sole purpose of effecting his capture. These 
only increased the rage of the corps; and after these 
raids, the counter marauds of De Lancey’s corps were 
marked by increased fury and cruelty. Pierre did his 
duty as an officer, but as time went by he found it 
almost impossible to check the blind fury of his men 
in their wanton destruction of property, and a sense 
of hopelessness filled his soul with disgust. 


CHAPTER XIX 


A TORY RAID 

At the end of the last chapter we anticipated a 
little, but upon matters of general history, and not 
upon those most nearly affecting our hero. We left 
him at the moment he rode out of sight of Elizabeth 
De Lancey in company with his new commander. The 
horse which he bestrode was a daughter of De Lancey’s 
famous stallion, and was a gift from the leader of the 
Westchester Light Horse; a magnificent animal, full 
of grace, strength and beauty, as was to be expected 
of a horse whose sire was to be the ancestor of the 
famous line of Morgans. It was not many weeks 
later that upon the occasion of the Colonel’s visit to 
his mother at West Farms his stallion was stolen by 
a group of freebooters from Connecticut and carried 
by them into their native State. 

Upon the afternoon of Pierre’s visit at the De 
Lancey house and meeting ^with Elizabeth, Sarah 
Husted returned with her father to her home in West- 
chester. For some weeks Pierre was engaged in his 
new duties of recruiting and drilling; and it was not 
until after the fall of Fort Washington that he had 
an opportunity to again cross the Harlem River. He 
293 


294 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


was in command of a small body of men in search of 
cattle; and he took advantage of his rather loose 
orders to push on to New Rochelle. He had not 
heard from that place for several weeks, and he was 
anxious to know how Madam de bon Repos was and 
how the family had been affected by the encampment 
of so many men at the little village. The drawn 
blinds of the house and its general air of quiet filled 
him with dismay, and it was with a feeling of trepida- 
tion that he raised the brass door-knocker. The door 
was opened to him by Eucie, herself. It needed but 
one glance at her sad face and black dress to tell him 
that her mother was dead. 

“ I am so sorry,” he said. “ When did it happen ? ” 
“ On the twentieth of October, while the British 
were in the village.” 

“ And your father? ” he asked. 

“ Oh ! Pierre, his heart is broken ; he is an old man. 
He was so dependent upon her, that — that — now she 
is — gone, there is no one to comfort him.” 

She ushered him into the familiar room, and he 
found, as Lucie had said, that the schoolmaster was 
indeed an old man. He looked up at Pierre’s entrance 
and extended his greeting in his old, gentlemanly way ; 
but his appearance pierced Pierre to the heart. He 
sat down, and the two bereaved ones told him of the 
last days and burial of their loved one. When they 
had finished, Pierre asked : 

“ What are you going to do, Mr. de bon Repos ? ” 

“ I suppose I must start my school again; but I have 


A TORY RAID 295 

no spirit to resume my work; and there is no one to 
look after the boys.” 

“ There is Lucie,” said Pierre. 

“ Why ! Lucie is but a child, herself,” said the old 
gentleman. 

“You mistake, sir; she is a woman, a grown-up, 
capable woman.” 

The old man looked from one to the other in mild 
surprise, as if the idea for the first time had found 
lodgment in his mind ; then he looked earnestly at his 
daughter. 

“ God bless my soul ! you are right, Pierre, but I 
never realized it until this moment.” 

“ I do not think, sir, you will be able to start your 
school again here. The times are too disturbed, and 
this section will be the scene of innumerable conflicts. 
Parents will be too careful of their children to subject 
them to so many dangers.” 

“ Perhaps you are right,” he said thoughtfully. 

“ Then, sir, let me suggest that, taking everything 
into consideration, your best plan will be to come to 
New York and open your school there.” 

“ No, no, Pierre ; that’s impossible. She’s here, and 
here we must remain.” 

Lucie agreed with Pierre; but though they both 
used every argument at their command, the usually 
gentle old man was inflexible; he would not leave the 
spot where his wife was buried, and he was mildly 
indignant that Lucie should think of doing such a 
thing. The little dispute lifted him somewhat out of 


296 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


the listlessness into which he had fallen, and Pierre 
took advantage of it to say : 

“ Mr. de bon Repos, you owe a duty to the living 
as well as to the dead. Lucie is an attractive woman 
and will be subjected to dangers in these dreadful 
times. Besides, you must both live. I do not know 
your circumstances, sir; nor have I any right to ask; 
but it seems to me, sir, that you should rouse yourself 
and do something; if not for your own sake, at least 
for Lucie , s. ,, 

Lucie had raised her hand in deprecation of his 
remarks, but Pierre felt that he was keeping his prom- 
ise to the dead woman and doing his duty to the living. 
The father listened in silence and remained thoughtful 
for some time ; then he said : 

“ You are right, my lad. I must arouse myself. 
This state into which I have permitted myself to fall 
is an intensely selfish one. There is my daughter to 
care for. I shall do the best I can; but I will not 
leave New Rochelle.” 

Pierre rose to say good-bye. He looked particu- 
larly handsome in his new uniform, and Lucie could 
not help showing her admiration in her glance. 

“ I am so glad that you came, Pierre. You have put 
new life into him. You must come again as often as 
you can.” 

“ I shall do so,” he said, with glowing eyes ; “ and 
when this war is over, which we hope it soon will be, 
I have something to say to you, Lucie ; something my 
heart has been longing to say for years.” 


A TORY RAID 


297 


She blushed furiously at his ardent gaze and dropped 
her eyes, to raise them in another moment to his with 
a look which set his heart beating wildly. She held out 
her hand demurely. 

“ Good-bye, Pierre. God grant that the war may 
end soon/’ 

He reached out to take her in his arms, but she 
stepped back quickly and disappeared into the room 
with her father. He stood for a moment with a smile 
upon his lips, then mounted his horse and rode away; 
but it was years before he saw her again. 

Upon the occupation of the lower county by the 
British, there had been erected a series of eight forts 
above the Harlem River, extending from the high 
bank of the Hudson on Spuyten Duyvel Neck to the 
shore of the Harlem below the present grounds of the 
New York University. It was under the guns of 
Fort No. 8 that De Lancey’s Horse was obliged to seek 
protection after several American attacks had been 
made upon it at its original location at the manor- 
house of Lewis Morris at Morrisania. A pontoon 
bridge across the Harlem near “No. 8 ” permitted of 
the passage of troops and supplies with Manhattan 
Island, and also afforded a convenient road for the 
driving in of captured cattle. During the summer 
time the British extended their posts as far as Yonkers, 
Valentine's Hill and New Rochelle; but in the winter 
they withdrew to the line of the Harlem River, and the 
Americans in turn extended their lines to the south- 
ward. It thus happened that De Lancey’s corps 


298 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


operated through the middle of the county, while the 
eastern portion near Westchester and beyond was 
occupied by the partisan bands of Baremore and 
others. During the summer, the corps was actively 
engaged ; during the winter Pierre often had opportuni- 
ties to visit his home; but though he tried often to 
extend his journey to New Rochelle at the same 
time, he found it too dangerous on account of the 
proximity of the Americans, or some other obstacle 
intervened. 

During the entire war market sloops carried supplies 
to the city from Westchester, Eastchester and New 
Rochelle, though the vessels from the last-named place 
had so much farther to go and were in great danger 
of capture from the whaleboat men who constantly 
patrolled the Sound and made descents upon the 
Tories of Long Island. Even if there were not the 
old untrammeled communication among the inhabit- 
ants of this section of the county, yet ancient friends 
and neighbors kept in touch with each other by means 
of the market boats and the meetings of the farmers 
in New York. The city was a splendid market for 
their produce, and prices ruled high. The farmers' 
sympathies, therefore, were with the British; and as 
they were in constant fear of the raids of the Ameri- 
cans to rob them of their stock, their poultry and their 
crops, there grew up a feeling of strong hatred of the 
Americans. It was by means of the method of com- 
munication suggested above that Pierre kept posted in 
regard to the life of his friends in New Rochelle, 


A TORY RAID 


299 


though months would sometimes intervene between one 
piece of information and the next. 

Mr. de bon Repos had started his school again, but 
from the first it was doomed to failure, for the reasons 
that Pierre had given. There were at the beginning 
only four pupils, and at the end of a year these 
had dwindled to two, with no more coming in. Six 
months later, there was none, and the schoolmaster 
was obliged to find some other means of livelihood. 
He had always maintained a small kitchen-garden, 
for the supply of his own table, which he had taken 
care of himself. Now, he increased his plot and 
began the cultivation of fruits and vegetables for the 
market. What had before been a diversion for his 
spare moments now became a labor for one of his 
age and habits, and Lucie was obliged to assist him. 
Pierre’s heart almost broke when he thought of the deli- 
cate, high-bred girl working in the fields like a com- 
mon farmer, and he cursed this fratricidal war whose 
end no man could see. While he -almost wept over 
Lucie’s enforced labor, yet there came later a feel- 
ing of glorious exultation in the spirit which would 
prompt her to do this thing to help her father in his 
time of difficulty and privation. Mr. de bon Repos 
found that it was more profitable for him to go to 
New York himself, and thus got into the habit of mak- 
ing a regular weekly trip. He secured a number of 
regular customers, who felt great pity for this gentle- 
man who had been forced to such uncongenial labor 
in his old age. One of them, a Tory refugee from 


300 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


Connecticut and a man of considerable wealth, struck 
up a friendship with Mr. de bon Repos ; and as he was 
in poor health and his physician had recommended 
country air, he and his daughter spent the summer 
with Mr. de bon Repos. Pierre heard rumors of the 
beauty and grace of the daughter, and he was thank- 
ful that Lucie had one of her own age and education 
for a companion. Thus the time passed until the 
month of May, 1781. 

As already intimated, Pierre had begun to grow 
weary of a life that semed to consist only of depreda- 
tions upon his fellow-men. He did his duty faith- 
fully, and had received his promotion to a captaincy 
in the summer of 1779; but outrage after outrage sick- 
ened him so of the life that he often thought of 
giving it up, but the lack of something else to which 
to turn his activities deterred him. On the first of 
May, 1781, a particularly vicious attack was made by 
the Americans upon De Lancey’s cantonment near 
Fort No. 8, and the corps lost over twenty men in 
killed, wounded and prisoners, thirty-five horses cap- 
tured and their huts set on fire. The attack had been 
made under cover of the darkness, and the Americans 
had gotten away from the pursuit that was immediately 
organized. De Lancey’s luck stood by him as of old, 
and he, himself, the prime object of the raid, escaped 
without injury. When the baffled troopers returned 
from their fruitless pursuit of the retiring raiders, 
there were heard in every direction curses loud and 
deep and threats of speedy and sanguinary vengeance. 


A TORY RAID 


301 


De Lancey kept throughout the war a recruiting 
station on Valentine’s Hill, and a few days after the 
raid, while the passions of the corps were still hot, a 
sergeant brought into camp a man who had pre- 
sented himself for enlistment. He was brought 
before De Lancey and several of his officers. The 
recruit was a well-built man and looked suitable as a 
recruit, but his sullen, hang-dog look made De Lancey 
examine him sharply. 

“ What is your name, and where are you from, my 
man ? ” 

“ Gilbert Totten, of Crompond, yer honor.” 

“ Have you ever borne arms ? ” 

“ Yes, yer honor,” he answered with downcast 
eyes. 

“ Where and with whom ? ” 

“ I wuz in th’ meleesha o’ Cortlandt Manor, yer 
honor.” 

“ A deserter ? ” 

“Yes, yer honor,” replied the man after a moment’s 
hesitation and uneasy shuffling of his feet. 

“ Why did you desert ? ” 

For the first time he raised his eyes, and the ob- 
servers saw a look of malignant hate and rage. 

“ My cap’n reported me fer er ’fraction o’ disa/dine, 
’n’ th’ cunnel ordered me twenty lashes. Damn him ! ” 
His eyes fairly flashed with fury. 

“ What was the infraction of discipline? ” 

“ I slep’ on my post wen I wuz a-doin’ sentry,” very 
sullenly. 


302 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


De Lancey did not tell him that he thought the pun- 
ishment very light and that he should have been shot ; 
but seeing that the man was thirsting for revenge and 
that he might be able to get some valuable information, 
he said with commiseration: 

“ Well, my man, it does seem hard that when a man 
is trying to do his duty that he should be punished 
for it. Who was your colonel ? ” 

The man looked grateful for De Lancey’s apparent 
sympathy, and replied in a heartier tone : 

“ Eootenant-cunnel Greene.” Then he looked cau- 
tiously around and came nearer to De Eancey. “ Him 
’n’ Major Flagg have th’ post at Pine’s Bridge over 
th’ Croton. They don’t keep no sentries at th’ bridge 
in th’ daytime; but at sunup, th’ sentries are with- 
drawn, ’cause they don’t think thet any o’ y’d attempt 
to cross in th’ daytime. Th’ sojers go ter sleep in th’ 
houses near th’ bridge.” 

“What’s that?” almost shouted De Lancey, while 
his officers crowded about. The man repeated his 
story and gave more details; when he had finished, 
De Lancey said : 

“ Totten, I’ll take you on probation. We want to 
make inquiries about this matter.” 

“ Thank ye, yer honor ; ye’ll find I’m a-tellin’ ye th’ 
truth.” 

De Lancey set his scouts and spies to work and soon 
had confirmation of the deserter’s tale. Officers and 
men were full of glee at the prospect of paying back 
their enemies, and preparations went forward quickly 


A TORY RAID 


303 

and secretly. The force consisted of one hundred 
dragoons and two hundred rangers on foot; so im- 
portant did De Lancey consider the affair that he went 
in person with his picked men. The expedition left 
the camp at four o’clock on the afternoon of the 
thirteenth of May and arrived by way of the White 
Plains, the only opening through the American lines, 
on the hill overlooking the ford of the Croton, before 
daylight the next morning. De Lancey and several of 
his officers watched the river anxiously while the com- 
mand kept out of sight. The morning twilight gradu- 
ally made things visible, and below them they could 
see the sentries at their posts. The sun was still 
below the horizon when a bugle was blown from near 
a house on the opposite hill, and as its notes sounded 
upon the morning air, the sentries left their posts 
and went to several farmhouses in the neighborhood. 
Within ten minutes not a soul was visible. De Lancey 
had selected two hundred of the men to make the 
attack, while he remained with the other hundred to 
cover the retreat of his troops in case they were driven 
back. At his signal, the picked men silently rose in 
their places and descended the hill to the river; still 
preserving the utmost quiet they crossed the stream and 
divided into two parties, one to attack the Davenport 
house and the other the Griffin house, and in a few 
minutes both houses were surrounded without any 
warning to the sleeping Americans. At the word of 
command from Captain Kipp, the Loyalists made a 
rush for the doors and windows of the Davenport 


304 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


house, and there ensued a scene of relentless and 
inhuman butchery of the unresisting inmates. 

Pierre had rushed in with his men, but when he 
tried to stay their murderous hands, they turned upon 
him with curses. He was swept With the frenzied 
mob into the chamber in which Greene and Flagg 
slept, and saw the latter disposed of at a single shot. 
“No quarter! no quarter!” had been the cry of the 
furious soldiers from the start; and though he tried 
to prevent it, he saw Greene murdered and cut to pieces 
before his eyes. There were no more victims to be 
had and the soldiers withdrew, wiping their blood- 
stained sabers and bayonets. Thirty-one dead bodies 
encumbered the rooms, while a dozen wounded men 
sent forth their agonizing groans and screams. The 
whole affair was over in ten minutes, and the soldiers 
returned to the ford where they were joined by the 
party under Captain Knapp which had assaulted the 
Griffin house. 

“How did you make out, Kipp?” called Knapp 
as he approached. “ How many prisoners did you 
get?” 

“We took no prisoners; they are too much trouble,” 
returned Kipp grimly. 

“ I captured an ensign and twenty men. We left 
eight dead,” said Knapp. 

Accustomed as he was to scenes of horror, Pierre 
was overcome by this butchery of helpless men. The 
picture of the gallant soldier Greene, fighting bravely 
for his life and being hacked and bayonetted to pieces 


A TORY RAID 


305 


rose before his vision, and he groaned inwardly. 
Then as the men marched through the ford they 
shouted and laughed gleefully; and as they washed 
their bloodstained hands and faces they splashed the 
bloody water at each other in play. 

“Horrible! horrible! — and this is war/’ thought 
Pierre with a shudder. “ God forgive me, I’m a 
part of it all.” 

When it was found that not one of the attacking 
force had been injured or was missing, De Lancey 
congratulated his men. 

“ In future, I think,” he said, “ the rebels will let 
De Lancey ’s corps alone. We’ve taught them a lesson 
they’ll not soon forget.” 

His men cheered him to the echo; then fearing that 
they might be pursued, they began their retreat to 
Fordham. Pierre rode by himself in moody silence, 
nor could the jokes or efforts of his companions draw 
him into conversation. Tired but jubilant, the troops 
returned to their encampment. Two days later Pierre 
sought his commander. 

“ Colonel De Lancey,” he said, “ I have decided to 
resign my commission and retire to the life of the 
civilian.” 

“ Why, Captain ? ” asked De Lancey sternly. 

“ There are several reasons, sir. My health is 
breaking down for one thing, and my nerves for 
another ; but the principal reason, sir, is that my heart 
is not in this bloody work.” 

“ We do no worse than the enemy.” 


306 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


“ That is true, sir ; but it is no excuse for either 
of us doing it.” 

“ I understand, then, sir, that you wish to desert 
the cause of His Majesty at this critical period, when 
the French are already approaching from Newport to 
the assistance of the rebels. I trust, sir, you do not 
propose to become a renegade.” 

Pierre’s face flushed and his hand went uncon- 
sciously to his sword which he half drew from its 
sheath. The touch of the hilt seemed to bring him 
to his senses. He pushed the sword back and said 
proudly : 

“ You might have spared me that insult, Colonel.” 

“ I beg your pardon, Pierre ; but your conduct is 
inexplicable to me and I was irritated. Come, Pierre, 
here’s my hand.” 

They shook hands and De Lancey, after a long look 
at his friend, said soothingly : 

“ I see what it is, Pierre. You are run down and 
need a rest. This last affair was a particularly bad 
one. Let me get three months’ leave for you.” 

“ No, sir; but I thank you for your kind intention. 
I have been thinking of this matter for over a year, 
and my mind is fully made up.” 

“ Very well, then. Write your resignation to 
Brigadier-General De Lancey and he will see that it 
reaches his Excellency, Sir Henry Clinton. It will 
probably take some time for it to go through.” 

It took somewhat longer than either of them antici- 
pated ; and before his resignation was finally accepted, 


A TORY RAID 


307 


Pierre was obliged to have an interview with the 
British Commander-in-Chief, after one with Oliver De 
Lancey. Clinton was not disposed to accept the return 
of the commission. He said Pierre’s record was too 
good a one, he was too excellent an officer for His 
Majesty to lose, and ended by offering Pierre a 
majority. Pierre stuck to his point, however, and 
gave his reasons clearly and concisely. At last, Clin- 
ton asked semi-humorously : 

“ Well ! Captain Husted, if I refuse to grant your 
request, what could you do ? ” 

“ I could desert, your Excellency; but neither you 
nor I would like that.” 

“ No; I don’t think we would,” Clinton replied with 
a laugh ; then turned to his secretary and said, “ Make 
out an acceptance of Captain Husted’s resignation of 
his commission and an honorable discharge from His 
Majesty’s service. By the way, Captain, if you have 
no other engagement, I should be pleased to have you 
dine with me and my military family.” 

“ I thank you, your Excellency, and am honored by 
your invitation, which I accept.” 

It was the fifth of July when Pierre arrived at his 
home in Westchester and prepared to take up the life 
of a farmer. His father and mother were both hand- 
some, middle-aged people, his sister Sarah had devel- 
oped into a beautiful woman, upon whose face there 
was a look of sadness at the long separation from him 
she considered her husband, and the younger children 
had grown up. William would have gone to the wars 


308 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


ere this, his sympathies being with the patriots, had it 
not been for the necessities of his father and the impor- 
tunities of his mother. Little Denise had grown into 
a bright, pretty child of five. As Pierre was watching 
her the afternoon of his return, he was struck by sev- 
eral marked and familiar mannerisms and a peculiar 
uplift of the eyebrows. For some time he was lost 
in thought trying to recall where he had seen these 
before, but the knowledge would not come within the 
field of his consciousness, and he gave up trying to 
solve the problem, knowing that its solution might 
come later. 

His heart was filled with longing to go to New 
Rochelle, but he felt it was his duty to stay his first 
night at home. On the morning of the sixth he 
mounted his horse and started joyfully on his trip; 
but he had not gone far when the sounds of drum and 
fife and bugle greeted his ears from the direction of 
the village. He found a large body of troops which 
had just arrived from farther up the county. He 
gazed at them without much interest and had started 
to ride through them when an officer cried sternly : 

“ You can’t pass these lines — O ! I beg your par- 
don, Captain Husted; I did not recognize you in 
civilian’s clothes. Have you not heard the news? 
Our scouts have brought in word that the French are 
advancing into the county and will reach the White 
Plains to-day, where they join the Americans. All 
our outposts are called in except a small one at East- 
chester, which will give notice of the enemy’s advance 


A TORY RAID 


309 


and then fall back. Beyond that it is dangerous to 
go, and strict orders have been issued to permit no 
one to pass. I’m sorry, sir, but you cannot pass.” 

Sick at heart, he turned his horse slowly and rode 
back to his home. 


CHAPTER XX 


NEW ROCHELEE 

On the same morning, a few hours later, Lucie de 
bon Repos, having finished her household tasks 
walked to the door for a few minutes before begin- 
ning her uncongenial task in her father’s small garden. 
Her father had gone to the city in his sloop earlier 
in the morning and would not, unless the wind were 
fair, return until the next day. She was alone in the 
house, for their circumstances had obliged them to 
dispense with help more than a year before; and as 
she looked at her roughened hands, she smiled rather 
ruefully to herself. Since we have last seen her, she 
has changed from girlhood into the flower of woman- 
hood. Her face is no longer thin and pale, but full 
and brown, tanned by exposure to the weather. Her 
form, though tall and slender, is magnificent in its pro- 
portions and presents in its every movement health, 
strength and beauty. Her luxuriant hair is heaped in 
masses above the smooth brow, and her dark eyes, 
albeit sad and wistful, are clear and steady in their 
gaze. She had gazed idly about at the quiet and 
apparently deserted village, and was on the point of 
310 


NEW ROCHELLE 


311 


entering the house when her ears caught the sound of 
an approaching horse. She turned and looked east 
along the highway, and as she so stood, she pre- 
sented a picture of magnificent and glorious beauty. 

The approaching horseman evidently thought so, 
for he fixed his eyes upon her in admiration and mut- 
tered to himself : 

“Mon Dicn! she is simply superb. I have never 
seen any one like her in all my travels.” 

Having surveyed the traveler, she was again on the 
point of entering the house, when she was stopped by 
his call : 

“ One moment, mistress, if you please. I desire a 
little information, and as I see no one else about I 
am afraid I shall have to trouble you.” 

He was a man of about fifty, dressed in plain and 
serviceable clothes. His face was burnt black by expo- 
sure to the elements, and there was a florid look which 
betokened to the initiated that he was a drinking man, 
one who sometimes drank to excess. Her all-compre- 
hensive woman’s glance had told her he was handsome 
and that he was a gentleman. As he came nearer, he 
saw that she was a lady, though dressed in homespun. 
He removed his hat and bowed to the pommel of his 
saddle. 

“ I regret very much, madam, to put you to any 
inconvenience, but I am a stranger in this part of the 
country and wish you to direct me to Westchester.” 

“ This road, sir, will take you to Eastchester, which 
you will recognize by the stone church, St. Paul’s. 


312 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


There you can make further inquiry for the West- 
chester path and not continue on the post-road to 
Kingsbridge. But, sir, I am afraid you will not be 
able to get through, for there is a picket of the British 
at Eastchester and the church is used as a hospital.” 

“ I thank you, madam. Though I know West- 
chester from the waterside, I do not know it from 
the landside. You are, perhaps, acquainted in West- 
chester.” 

“ Yes, sir ; is there any one about whom you wish 
to inquire? This dreadful war has dissipated our 
people, but still, I may be able to tell you.” 

“ Can you tell me, madam, of the whereabouts of 
a young gentleman who goes by the name of Pierre 
Husted? ” 

“ Pierre Husted ! ” she repeated in surprise, while 
she gave a start and looked curiously at this stranger. 
He noticed the expression of her face and said : 

“ You evidently know him, madam.” 

“ He is one of my oldest and best friends ; we have 
known each other from childhood,” she said simply. 

“ How happy and how fortunate a young man,” he 
said with such a bow and air of sincerity that his 
remark was robbed of its boldness. “ I am anxious 
to see Pierre on a matter which concerns him very 
nearly. Can you tell me anything about him ? ” 

“ He is a captain in De Lancey’s corps of Loyalists, 
whose quarters are near Fordham village. I have not 
seen him in four years, but we learn from the gossip 
of the country-side.” 


NEW ROCHELLE 313 

There was a dreamy, far away look in her eyes 
which did not escape his notice. “ There is some- 
thing more than simple friendship between them,” he 
thought ; “ at least, on her part.” 

“ Then you do not think I shall be able to get 
through the lines to see him ? ” he asked. 

“ I do not know,” she returned coldly, beginning to 
regard this stranger suspiciously, as every inhabitant 
of the Neutral Ground had long ago learned to look 
upon every stranger. She started once more to go 
inside the house, but he made a detaining motion 
with his hand and cried : 

“ Please do not go, madam. There is more de- 
pends on this matter than you have any idea of; and 
I must see him. I have a pass through the American 
lines which I obtained at Stamford, where I ran in 
some supplies for the Continentals. Did you ever 
hear him speak of Captain James Roscoe of the brig 
Saucy Polly f ” 

“ Yes,” she said in amazement; “ he disappeared so 
mysteriously from his vessel at Balize.” 

“ I am Captain Roscoe ; and I have come to tell 
Pierre the reason for my sudden disappearance, and 
explain to him the mystery that surrounds his birth. 
Madam, in me you behold a man whose conscience has 
given him no rest for years, a man whose one desire 
has been to right a wrong perpetrated years ago. 
Now that I am so near to Pierre, it seems hard that 
I cannot reach him and relieve my guilty soul of its 
burden. Madam, they say that women are ingenious. 


314 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


Cannot you devise some means to reach him for me. 
I have lived a wild and dissipated life. Help me to 
live the rest of it in peace and goodness.” 

There was such an air of sincere contrition about 
him that she believed him. She was thoughtful for 
several minutes, while he watched her humbly and 
beseechingly ; and strange anomaly, her woman’s heart 
went out in sympathy to this man who had just pro- 
claimed himself a sinner. Suddenly, her brow lost its 
thoughtful corrugation and she said : 

“ I think I see a way, Captain Roscoe ; but it will 
take several days.” 

“ I do not care if it takes a month, madam, if it 
should be successful. But do not let him know who 
it is that wishes to see him ; do not mention my name 
to him; for he may have such contempt for me that 
he will not come. I tried to do him harm and mis- 
lead him ; but nobly did he resist temptations.” 

She directed him to the tavern where he could put 
up his horse and await further instructions from her. 
In another minute she had removed her house apron 
and was speeding away to a neighbor’s where she 
pounced upon a small boy of fourteen whose face 
showed shrewdness and cunning. He smiled as he 
saw her, and it was evident he was a devoted slave 
and admirer. 

“ Willie Guion,” she said with suppressed excite- 
ment, “ will you do something for me? ” 

“ O’ course, Miss Lucie. What d’ye want? Turn 
a somersault, go a-fishin’, or cut off my head ? ” 


NEW ROCHELLE 315 

“ None of these. I want you to go on an errand 
to Westchester for me.” 

“ Go t’ Westchester! Phew! That is a job, Miss 
Lucie.” 

“ Then you don’t think you can do it, Willie?” 
Her face fell and her disappointment showed in her 
voice. 

“ Who said I c’dn’t do it ? I kin do it, ’cause I’ve 
done it. Why! Miss Lucy, I kin walk right under th’ 
noses o’ those sojers ’n’ they can’t see me. Wen 
d’ye want me ter go ? ” 

“ Right away. Will your mother let you off for 
the day ? ” 

“ I’ll see.” He ran into the house and returned in 
a minute. “ It’s all right, Miss Lucie. She said you 
c’d have me all day, ’n’ I didn’t tell her where you 
wanted me ter go.” 

She led the way back to her own house and gave 
him his lunch to eat on the road and impressed upon 
him the necessity of being secret and careful. He was 
to go to William Husted’s on Castle Hill Neck and 
ask them to forward the letter she would give him to 
Captain Husted. Then she wrote the following: 

“N. Roch lle , July, 6th, 1781. 

To Cap n Pierre Husted, De Lancey's Corps. 

Sir, 

A strange Gentl" arrived tody in N w Roch ,le & made Inq^ 
for you. He says he is an old Friend & wishes to see you on a 
Matter connect with y r Berth, tho’ I do n* no what he means. 
He will he here sev 1 Days. I cant tell you his Name, tho’ I am 
sure he is Honest. Very truly y rs , 

Lucie de bon Repos,” 


816 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


The task that Willie Guion had undertaken was, 
by no means, an easy one ; for the trip to Westchester 
and back would be fully twenty miles with all the 
deviations he would have to make from the direct 
route. Willie, however, was a sturdy lad, and not- 
withstanding his natural boyish brag, was well able 
to perform the task. He could assume, if necessity 
required, a most innocent expression well adapted to 
deceive even the most suspicious, and he could tell 
a lie, upon occasion, with so straight a face and so 
ingenuous a manner as to convince the most skeptical. 
In view of the movements of the outposts and the 
rumors of the past few days, the inhabitants were 
more than usually suspicious and watchful; yet the 
youngster succeeded in getting several lifts upon his 
way in the carts of farmers who were upon the road, 
and actually got through the picket at Eastchester 
under a load of hay with the connivance of a farmer 
who had a pass. He knew the country thoroughly 
and all its woods and streams, and at times he sneaked 
through by-paths with great caution, always keeping 
a close lookout for travelers, or pickets, whose usual 
positions he knew. It was about ten o’clock when he 
left New Rochelle, and owing to the rides he had 
gotten on his way, it was about one when he reached 
the Husted house without mishap. Pie delivered the 
letter into Pierre’s own hand. Boy-like, he had eaten 
his lunch almost immediately after starting in order 
to prevent being bothered by carrying it, and now he 
was starving-hungry after his trip. Pierre sent him 


NEW ROCHELLE 317 

off to get his dinner and sat down to consider the 
letter. 

He was not so keen about knowing the truth about 
his parentage as he had been at the time of his love 
affair with Elizabeth De Lancey, and had been satis- 
fied to let the matter rest. Now that a gentleman had 
turned up from the unknown who could enlighten him, 
his curiosity was roused once more. Who was the 
gentleman, he wondered. Lucie seemed to have faith 
in him, and she wrote that he was an old friend. 
Roscoe came before his mind’s eye, but he dismissed 
him at once from consideration ; for had not the Cap- 
tain himself said that he was Pierre’s enemy? The 
simple expedient of going to his mother again pre- 
sented itself, but through his love and respect for her 
and his disinclination to disturb the happy serenity of 
her life, he put the idea aside. Was it worth while? 
he asked himself. He had lived for nearly thirty 
years without knowing and he could live for thirty 
more. No one for many years had ever thrown the 
slightest hint that he was not William Husted’s own 
son, nor had questioned his birth in his presence. 
Perhaps the sight of the powerful man had deterred 
them, knowing that under the usual amiable courtesy 
of the handsome and pleasant young fellow was a sleep- 
ing lion that they dare not rouse. 

The longer he thought over the matter, the more 
attractive it became. What harm could be done? 
Whatever he learned he could keep to himself. Per- 
haps he would hear a tale of his mother’s sin. 


318 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 

Would it not be better to continue to do as his 
father had done, accept without question the belief in 
her purity and innocence? Even if he did learn some- 
thing to her disparagement, his love for her was so 
great that it would make no difference in their rela- 
tions. Who was his real father? Here was the 
opportunity to find out and settle a question that had 
bothered him in the past. Like most strong men, he 
wanted a doubt cleared up ; and besides, there was the 
risk attached both to his journey to see this stranger 
and as to what this stranger might divulge. He sat 
down and wrote : 

“Westchester, July 6th, 1781. 

To Mrs. de bon Repos, 

N. Roch le . 

Dear Madam; 

Y r Letter by y e hand of W. Guion has b n rec d . I shall be 
at y r house this ev* about 9 o’clock, if I succeed in getting 
safely thro’ the Lines. These by y e hand of y* Messenger. 

Y r obedt seiV, 

Pierre Husted.” 

As he re-read his note, it seemed formal to him, and 
he had a desire to make it more cordial and to convey 
to her some of the sentiment with which his heart 
was filled ; but a reference to her note satisfied him that 
the formality and stiffness were right. 

Willie Guion had satisfied his hunger and was 
enjoying a well-earned rest. It was not until three 
o’clock that Pierre gave him the note and a liberal 
fee and started him on his return journey. The boy 
was not so fortunate on his homeward trip and did 


NEW ROCHELLE 


319 


not get any help upon his way ; besides which, he had 
to keep very close on one occasion for nearly an hour 
to escape falling into the hands of a British patrol. 
It was dark when the lights of the village came into 
view, but he was so near home that he stepped into 
the road itself, and, after a cursory glance to see that 
it was clear, began to whistle to help his weary foot- 
steps. He had almost passed the first house on the out- 
skirts of the hamlet, when he found himself in the 
clutches of two men who had sprung out from its 
shadows. He had been holding the note in his hand, 
but at once shoved it into his pocket. The sudden- 
ness of the capture deprived him of his usual ready 
wit, and his weary state helped to confuse his thoughts ; 
so that to the stern demand of the men, “ Who are 
ye? Wot are ye a-doin’ at this time o’ night?” he 
replied : 

“ Oh ! sir, I ain't a-doin' nawthin’. Cross my hands, 
hope to die ef I is.” 

“ You little Papist,” said another voice, and a man 
in the uniform of an officer stepped into view ; “ when 
a boy denies doing anything when he's not accused, 
it's a sure sign that he is doing something he ought not 
to be doing.” 

“ Thet’s true as Gosp'l, Major,” said one of the 
men. 

“ Now, young man, who are you?” demanded the 
Major. 

“Willie Guion, sir,” whimpered the lad; “I'm 
Jacob Guion’s boy thet lives on th' post-road.” 


320 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


“ All right, Willie. Now what did you put in your 
pocket ? ” 

“ Nawthin’, sir.” 

“ Search him,” said the officer briefly, and the two 
men emptied his pockets of a collection of odds and 
ends, among which was the tell-tale note. 

“ What’s this note and whom is it for ? ” 

It was too dark to see the address and the officer 
turned it over and over in his hands. It was unsealed, 
but the officer could not make out any of the writing. 
Willie had discovered that the men were all in the uni- 
form of the Continentals, and that they did not seem 
to menace him with any immediate harm, so his dis- 
ordered wits returned and he looked up with a cunning 
smile in which there appeared no semblance of de- 
ception. The smile broadened into a grin as he 
said: 

“ I’ll tell ye, Major. One o’ th’ gurls in th’ village 
sent me with er note to her sweetheart, ’n’ I wuz 
a-bringin’ her his anser.” 

“ He must live a long ways off, from your tired 
and bedraggled appearance,” retorted the Major. 

“ He does, yer honor ; over ter Hunt’s Bridge.” 

“ Love letters sometimes contain valuable informa- 
tion,” remarked the officer thoughtfully. “ I think I 
will read this one.” 

The conversation had been held in low tones near 
to the house, in whose window a light showed. With 
a brief command to his men to hold their little prisoner 
securely, the officer knocked at the door of the house. 


NEW ROCHELLE 321 

In a minute a tremulous voice on the inside demanded 
to know who was there. 

“ An American officer. I want to use your light for 
a few minutes.” 

“ A’right, yer honor,” replied the voice ; and after 
a sound of removing bolts and bars and turning of a 
key in the lock, the door swung open, disclosing an 
old woman holding aloft a candle. At sight of the 
officer she peered at him for a moment, then exclaimed : 

“ Land sakes ! ef it hain’t Major Bayard. Walk 
in, sir.” 

She dropped him a curtsy and led him into the 
kitchen and placed her candle on the table. He looked 
carelessly at the superscription of the note, but gave a 
start at seeing it was addressed to Lucie de bon Repos. 
He turned the unsealed note in his hands uncertainly; 
then there flashed into his mind the story the boy 
had told about the notes between the sweethearts. 
Was it true? he wondered; and a feeling of angry 
jealousy swept through him. His conscience told him 
for an instant that it would not be honorable to read 
a note addressed to her, but his desire to know who 
was her correspondent brushed all scruples aside and 
he opened the letter. Its brevity and business-like 
formality bore themselves in on him for a moment ; but 
the suspicion darted through his mind that these were 
pretenses to mislead any one, who, like himself, should 
get it in his possession. 

“ Damn him ! Damn him ! Damn them both ! ” he 
hissed through his set teeth ; and the old woman looked 


322 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


up at the sound; at sight of him shaking with rage 
and clenching his hands she shrunk back cowering in 
fear. 

“ God preserve us ! did any one e’er see the like ? ” 
she exclaimed, and watched him from the corner where 
she sat. 

For five minutes Bayard stood shaking with the 
rage which consumed him and tortured by the fires 
of love and jealousy, while an incoherent stream of 
imprecations and horrible insinuations flowed from his 
set lips. Could he doubt her guilt ? He had, himself, 
knocked at her door but an hour since and she had 
informed him her father was away for the night, and 
he had promised to protect the house and see that she 
was not interfered with. Had she not begged him 
not to put himself to that trouble; she had no fear, 
and was able to protect herself. Of course, she had 
written to her lover — his note showed he had received 
her message — and expected him, and any guard that 
he might place about the house would prevent their 
meeting. And this was the woman whom he had 
thought a pattern of goodness and innocence and 
purity, whom he had loved and wanted to marry. He 
had told her so upon every available occasion during 
the past five years, and every time she had rejected 
him, giving some excuse which was so plausible as to 
satisfy him: her mother’s illness, her mother’s death, 
the necessity of remaining with her father till he re- 
covered his health and spirits, the uncertainty of 
the war, 


NEW ROCHELLE 


323 


He cursed himself for a fool at being so easily de- 
ceived; and all the time she was carrying on this 
intrigue with Pierre Husted, a nobody, a bastard, a 
man of birth so obscure that no one knew who his 
father was. He forgot that for the greater part of 
these five years Pierre had been away, and that it was 
impossible for them to have met ; but his rage blinded 
him to such facts as these. He had been made their 
sport, their plaything. She had, no doubt, told her 
lover of Bayard’s proposals, and they had laughed at 
him in secret. Perhaps, after their love had grown 
stale, it was her intention to accept him ; him, a gentle- 
man of family and position ; and he would have intro- 
duced a harlot into his family, to be the mother of his 
children. 

Is it any wonder that as these thoughts rushed 
through his brain, he became a raging beast, at sight of 
whom the old woman gazed in abject fear, muttering 
prayers to herself as if they would protect her? At 
last he stopped his walk up and down the small apart- 
ment and muttered to himself : 

“ I’ll be revenged upon them ; but how ? ” 

He stood for some moments in deep thought; then 
a smile lighted up his face and an expression crossed 
it which made the old woman shriek in terror. The 
sound drew his attention to her — he had been un- 
conscious of her presence — and he asked harshly : 

“ What are you screaming about? ” 

“ I am afraid,” she answered. 

“ Afraid ? What are you afraid of? ” 


324 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


“ O’ — o’ — you ; ’n’ o’ hell, ’n’ th’ devil,” she chat- 
tered. He laughed harshly. 

“ O ! you needn’t worry about hell, dame ; I’ve been 
there within the last half hour. You may take my 
word for it: it’s worse than it’s painted. Now I 
expect to go to heaven for recompense.” 

Again he laughed harshly, and the poor old soul 
thought he was crazy and cowered deep into the cor- 
ner where she sat. He gave her a long look, then 
composed his features and left the room, first thank- 
ing her for her temporary hospitality. The old dame 
breathed more freely as she saw him leave the room; 
she hobbled after him and closed and bolted the door 
with trembling hands, and did not feel safe until that 
was done. His men looked up when he emerged 
from the house, for they had been surprised at the 
length of time it had taken to read this small note. 

“ Here, boy ; take this note and deliver it, but don’t 
you stop to say a single word more to the lady. If 
you do, I’ll cut your tongue out. Ford, accompany 
this boy and see that he obeys my orders, but keep out 
of sight and don’t let the lady see you. If you do, 
it will be the woyse for you.” 

They both looked at him, and there was something 
in his tone and in his expresison which made Willie’s 
teeth chatter and his courage and bravado ooze out at 
his fingers’ ends. They both said, “ Yes, sir,” very 
meekly and walked toward the village. Bayard turned 
to the other soldier. 

“ Tompkins, you will keep this post with the same 


NEW ROCHELLE 


325 


orders as before until Ford returns.” Then he walked 
slowly after the vanishing pair before him and watched, 
himself, to see that his orders were obeyed. As they 
approached the house, Ford placed himself so that he 
could see and hear without himself being seen, and 
Willie knocked at the door. In a moment a voice from 
the inside asked who it was, and the boy answered. 
The door opened, and he gave the note into her hand 
and at once started away. She called to him to come 
back, but he replied he was in a hurry to get home 
and vanished in the darkness. She looked after him 
for a moment and then closed the door. Ford at 
once left his place and returned to his post. Not so 
the other watcher, who, at sight of Lucie, had felt all 
his former rage return to him. In a few minutes he 
was astonished to see the door open again and Lucie 
issue forth. Where is she going? he wondered, and 
crouched into his hiding place. He watched her go 
across to the tavern and enter, and he crept to the 
window and looked through a crack in the shutter. 
She was in conversation with a strange gentleman 
whom he had never seen before. In about fifteen 
minutes she moved as if to take her leave, and he 
crept away from the window. He saw her return to 
her own house and could hear her lock and bolt the 
door; then he went away to where his men were 
encamped and called for one of his captains. 

“ I want twenty of your best men ; men upon whom 
every reliance can be placed. I hope to capture to- 
night one of De Lancey’s captains ; but there must be 


326 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


absolute silence and secrecy. See that the men have 
their muskets loaded, but they are not to fire under 
any circumstances unless they get orders from me.” 

Within ten minutes the squad of men was ready, 
and he marched them silently to the de bon Repos 
house, where he placed them in such a manner that 
they could not be seen, though they had the house 
surrounded except on the street side. This done, he 
left them and called for the officer of the guard. To 
him he gave orders that if a British officer were to 
try to get through the line of pickets, he was to be 
permitted to do so without the pickets disclosing them- 
selves in any way so as to give warning that New 
Rochelle was occupied by a detachment of troops, and 
that word was to be sent to him at once of the 
entrance of the officer ; but no noise of any kind must 
be made. Then he returned to his post near the house 
and began his vigil. 

Bayard was well acquainted with the interior 
arrangements of the house, and a slight description 
may be given here so that the reader may understand 
the events of this evening. The house was a long 
rambling affair with a low second-story used as dormi- 
tories for the younger boys and the servants. The 
principal rooms were on the ground floor. The pas- 
sageway from the front door ran through the house. 
On the right-hand side were two bedrooms, back of 
which were the dining room and kitchen. On the 
left-hand side of the passageway were two rooms ; the 
front one being the parlor or library, for it contained 


NEW ROCHELLE 


327 


the books, pictures and harpsichord. It had two win- 
dows on the front and two on the side. Back of this 
room was another, considerably larger, with two win- 
dows opening on the side and a door entering the 
passageway and one into the library. This room was 
the schoolroom. A one-storied wing back of the 
schoolroom contained six bedrooms used by the older 
scholars. It is with the library and the schoolroom 
that we have to do. A fence extended on each side 
of the front of the house to mark the limits of the 
home-lot, which extended for a long distance to the 
rear. 

A careful examination showed Bayard that the 
blinds on the right side of the house were closed. 
Those on the left side were only half-closed, and the 
windows inside open, probably on account of the heat 
of the day. He could, therefore, without much trou- 
ble see and hear what would happen in either the 
library or schoolroom, in both of which candles were 
lighted. As he peered in, he saw Lucie sitting in the 
front room looking at a book, though she gave it, 
apparently, but scant attention and looked up expec- 
tantly at every slight sound. The sight of her made 
him grind his teeth in rage. He took up his position 
near the fence gate, whence he could see the road in 
front and any one who approached the house. As 
near as he could judge, it must have been half-past 
eight when the sound of footsteps aroused his closest 
attention. At the thought that it was his hated rival 
the blood rushed to his head in such force as to make 


328 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


his head sing ; but he almost fell over in astonishment 
when he saw the strange gentleman whom he had seen 
in conversation with Lucie at the tavern knock gently 
at the door and be admitted. Then he crept carefully 
to the window and looked in. Lucie and the stranger 
were engaged in conversation, but in so low a tone 
that he could not hear. After a few minutes, he went 
back to his former position and watched as carefully 
as before ; and at last his vigil was rewarded. 


CHAPTER XXI 


WHAT DEEDS THE DARKNESS COVERS 

While Bayard was making ready to receive Lucie 
de bon Repos’s visitor at New Rochelle, Pierre was 
preparing for his night journey. Two emotions con- 
trolled him: joy at the prospect of seeing Lucie after 
all these years, intensest curiosity to find out what this 
strange gentleman would have to say to him. That 
he was perturbed was shown in his restless manner 
in walking about the house and continually going to 
look at the old English clock which stood in the hall- 
way. A half dozen times or more did he take up 
his pistols and slip them into his pockets, or take them 
and put them in his holsters, only to take them out 
again. 

He had his supper, and a little after six o’clock he 
mounted his horse and rode into Westchester. There 
was no hurry. The days were long and darkness did 
not settle until after eight, by which time he expected 
to be near enough to his destination to slip in without 
being seen., It was not yet known that he was out of 
the service, so when he stopped at Westchester to see 
the commander there, the captain in charge of the out- 
post expressed surprise at his not being in uniform. 
Pierre did not tell him why; but stating that he had 
329 


330 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


a mission up the road easily obtained a passage through 
the lines, the officer supposing he was on some secret 
business involving danger. At Eastchester he learned 
that the scouts had brought in information that the 
French and American armies had that morning made 
a junction at the White Plains, and that large bodies 
of troops had been advanced toward the lower county, 
obliging the withdrawal of the British. 

“ De Lauzan’s Legion, with a large body of militia 
and a battalion of Continental troops have occupied the 
section toward the Sound/’ said the officer. 

“ Have they reached New Rochelle? ” asked Pierre 
anxiously, thinking that his plan would be frustrated. 

“ I think not, Captain. The militia are in Mamaro- 
neck and the French are encamped on the Quaker 
Ridge. My scouts think that the Continentals are 
with the Due at Scarsdale.” 

“ Well ! ” said Pierre, “ I shall have to risk it, Cap- 
tain; for I must be in New Rochelle by nine o’clock 
to meet a party who has valuable information for me.” 

“ Good God ! Captain Husted, you don’t propose 
entering the enemy’s lines in civilian’s dress. Remem- 
ber the fate of Andre.” 

“ According to your advices, New Rochelle is not 
within the American lines; therefore, I run no risk, 
and I must go.” 

“ It is not my place to question the acts of my 
superiors, but I want to say that if they have author- 
ized you to go on this errand, they have shown 
damned poor judgment.” 


WHAT DEEDS DARKNESS COVERS 331 


Pierre laughed and said, “ You will pass me through 
the lines, Captain? I wish to leave my horse here 
until I return.” 

The Captain looked at Pierre for a minute with a 
look of perplexity ; then he said brusquely : 

“ I have no authority to pass you through, Captain 
Husted. Where’s your pass ? ” 

“ I have none, Allen ; but if you refuse, I’ll go any- 
how. I know every inch of this country and I can 
slip out without your pickets knowing anything 
about it.” 

“ Then, by George ! I’ll arrest you.” 

Every obstacle seemed to increase Pierre’s mad 
desire to see Lucie, now that he had the prospect in 
view. If the Captain were to arrest and detain him, 
what could he do? Allen evidently thought he was 
on some military business; and so, after a moment’s 
thought, he retorted significantly : 

“ If you do, you may get into trouble. Now, 
why should I have a pass? It might make worse 
trouble for me on the other side.” 

“I see,” Allen replied thoughtfully; “but by God! 
if you return safely, it’ll be either the devil’s own luck 
or a miracle. Whoever’s sending you on this errand 
might as well have signed your death warrant at once. 
I’ll pass you. When will you return ? ” 

“ Some time between ten and eleven. If anything 
should happen, I’ll try to get word to you.” 

“ All right ; I’ll see you myself to the picket.” 

They walked together up the post-road to where the 


332 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


outpost picket was established at the Hutchinson 
River, where the two shook hands and bade each other 
good night. 

“ I feel as if it were good-bye/’ said Allen with real 
concern; “good-bye forever.” 

“You are too pessimistic, Allen; I’ll be back all 
right,” laughed Pierre and descended to the plankless 
bridge, which he crossed on the stringers. It was a 
clear night, and though there was no moon, objects 
could be seen for a considerable distance. Allen and 
the pickets watched Pierre a short distance along the 
road, then he disappeared so mysteriously and sud- 
denly that they all gasped, and the subaltern in charge 
cried : 

“ Did you see that, sir ? Where in thunder did he 
go to so suddenly? ” 

“ I don’t know, Parkes. I thought my eyes had 
played me a trick, but since you all saw him disappear, 
it must be some trick he played. He said he knew 
every inch of this country. Keep a good lookout for 
his return. Good night.” 

By by-paths, swamps and apparently trackless 
woods, Pierre worked his way toward New Rochelle. 
He had been over this ground too often with his fellow 
schoolmates playing Indians not to have learned it 
thoroughly, and now the knowledge all came back to 
him. He ran across no one in his journey; and Bay- 
ard, who expected to have warning of his approach 
was astonished to hear the knocker on the door beat- 
ing a gentle tattoo without his having heard footsteps 


WHAT DEEDS DARKNESS COVERS 333 


or seen any one approach the house. It was a bad 
thing for Pierre at that moment that his mind was so 
full of Eucie de bon Repos and the prospect of seeing 
her in a few minutes, or he would have discovered the 
trap that was laid for him. Bayard looked at the man 
waiting at the door in amazement. He spoke in a 
whisper to the soldier beside him and asked him if 
the man at the door were in uniform. Upon receiv- 
ing an assurance that he was not, Bayard was lost for 
a moment in wonder. In the first place, the appear- 
ance of the strange gentleman had confused him ; and 
now Pierre had appeared in disguise. What did it 
mean? There was evidently no lover’s assignation; 
and the joy which he felt over this discovery showed 
him how much the apparent defection and frailty of 
Lucie had hurt him. A stranger and a British officer 
in disguise — a spy ! There was some hellish plot under 
way, and Lucie was cognizant of it, yes, a partaker of 
it. A sense of duty mingled with his desire for 
revenge; but the name of Lucie, his future wife, he 
hoped, must not appear in it. 

The instant that he was sure of Pierre’s identity, he 
had stepped again to the window of the library whence 
he could see the two inside. At the sound of the 
knocker, Lucie had jumped to her feet and had cried 
softly : 

“ There’s Pierre ! I will let him in.” 

“ No, no ; not yet,” cried Roscoe in alarm. “ Give 
me a few minutes to compose myself. I do not want 
to meet him too suddenly. I have done him a great 


334 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


injury, and I am afraid of him. Is there no place 
where I can stay for a few minutes before you call me 
and prepare the way? ” 

Lucie looked at the strong man in amazement, but 
she saw how disconcerted he was, and opened the door 
into the schoolroom, showed him in and shut the door 
behind her. She was surprised to find that she, too, 
was disconcerted at the idea of meeting Pierre and that 
her heart was beating so wildly. It took her a few 
moments to arrange her thoughts and there came a 
second rat-tat of the knocker, which startled her again. 
She tried to compose herself, and woman-like, glanced 
into the mirror which hung upon the wall. Some- 
thing had to be arranged about her hair and dress, 
and while she was doing this there came a third time 
the sound of the knocker; this time insistent and 
impatient. She went slowly out into the passageway 
with her candle. 

“ Who’s there ? ” she called softly. 

“ It is I, Pierre. Open and let me in.” 

Her fingers were trembling so with excitement that 
they would hardly do her bidding; but at last she got 
the door open, and Pierre stepped in. He stood and 
gazed at her with his soul in his eyes, and she looked 
back at him in bewilderment at the intensity of his 
gaze. Her hand began to shake so that she almost 
dropped the candlestick. 

“ Shut the door, Pierre,” she cried. 

He did so, and then she preceded him into the 
library and placed the candlestick on the table. He 


WHAT DEEDS DARKNESS COVERS 335 


stood watching her until she turned toward him. As 
the light showed all her superb beauty, he gasped in 
the intensity of his emotion, and stretched out his 
arms. 

“ Lucie,” he cried, “ I love you. God knows how 
I have longed for this moment to tell you so. I love 
you. Have you no answer ? ” 

At his words and glance a species of soft wonder 
had shot through her and she had blushed vividly. 
Her wonder still showed in her eyes as she raised 
them slowly to his. He took a quick step toward her, 
but she shrank back in sudden, modest fright and put 
out her hands to keep him off. 

“ No, no, Pierre; not now. There is the other mat- 
ter — first,” she panted, and turned to the schoolroom 
door. That word “ first ” sent a wild wave of joy 
through his frame. 

“ I will call your friend,” she said, and opened the 
door. 

Let us return a few minutes and see what had hap- 
pened to Captain Roscoe. He seated himself and 
tried to overcome the extraordinary agitation which 
affected him at the prospect of meeting Pierre. Bay- 
ard, on the outside, was watching him through the 
open window. Thirty seconds had not elapsed before 
Bayard had made up his mind as to his course of 
action. He whispered a few brief orders to his sub- 
ordinates, and an instant later Roscoe turned at the 
slight sound of the shutters being opened to their full 
width and looked into the barrels of four muskets 


336 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


aimed directly at him. At the same moment, a voice 
whispered fiercely 

“ A single sound or movement and you are a dead 
man.” 

Roscoe was brave enough, but he saw at once the 
futility of resistance, so he sat perfectly still. He had 
hardly realized his position, when five men, one after 
the other, clambered noiselessly in through the other 
window. They were all without their shoes, and the 
first two were officers. In less than a minute, Roscoe 
was gagged and bound, the ropes intended for Pierre 
being used for the purpose. Bayard whispered a few 
brief commands to his men, the light was extinguished 
and the Major placed himself by the door leading 
into the library. For a few moments there was 
silence; then the murmur of voices could be heard in 
the library ; but the only words that Bayard could make 
out were those spoken near to the door in the agitated 
voice of Lucie, “ I will call your friend.” 

She opened the door and was surprised to find the 
room in darkness. “ Captain ! ” she called softly, but 
there was no answer. She stepped into the dark room 
and called again, “ Captain ! Captain Roscoe ! ” but 
there was still no answer, and the stillness was pro- 
found. The light of the single candle in the library 
gave but little illumination and did not reach the 
interior of the schoolroom, so that Pierre could not see 
clearly through the door, nor could Lucie see within 
the interior of the room. She took two or three steps 
more, peering into the darkness and trying to discover 


WHAT DEEDS DARKNESS COVERS 337 


Captain Roscoe. At the same instant the door closed 
behind her and she felt a hand placed over her mouth 
and her arms pinioned to her sides by the strong grasp 
of a man. A voice hissed into her ear: 

“ If you value your life, keep quiet. No harm is 
intended you if you keep still.” 

Then a gag was slipped into her mouth and her 
hands tied and she was led to a seat. Bayard went 
to the window and whispered to his subordinates. 
Immediately, four men more climbed in through the 
window and two of them went into the passageway; 
then Bayard once more took up his station at the 
library door. All had been done so quickly and deftly 
that two minutes had not elapsed since Lucie had 
entered the room ; but to Pierre, waiting for he knew 
not what, they seemed much longer. He glanced at 
the closed door of the schoolroom once or twice, then 
advanced to it and opened it, and stood face to face 
with an American officer. He jumped back quickly 
and his hands went unconsciously into his pockets for 
his pistols; but they were not there, and he remem- 
bered, with a curse upon his own foolishness, that he 
had left them in the holsters on his saddle. The offi- 
cer stepped into the room after him, and said in a 
voice that showed the exultation of the speaker : 

“ Captain Husted, you are my prisoner. I regret to 
say, sir, that there can be little doubt of your fate. 
A British officer taken within our lines in disguise is 
a spy.” 

Pierre glanced quickly toward the door and win- 


338 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


dows as if meditating an escape; but if so, he quickly 
abandoned the idea as four soldiers filed in after the 
officer and the door from the hall opened, disclosing 
two more. 

“You mistake, sir,” he said; “I am no longer a 
British officer. I have resigned my commission and 
I have my discharge at home in Westchester. Were 
that here, I could give you the proof.” 

“ A likely story, Captain,” said his captor with a 
sneer. 

Something in the man’s voice seemed familiar to 
Pierre; and for the first time he looked at him 
closely. 

“ Bayard ! ” he cried ; then a wave of despair swept 
over him and his head sank upon his breast. He had 
been trapped; trapped by Lucie de bon Repos! So 
this was the friend that he was to meet and who was 
to tell him of his birth ! He saw it all now. Bayard 
and Lucie were lovers ; she knew, or suspected his love 
for her and had taken advantage of it to lead him 
to his doom. He had been sold, and for what ? The 
approbation and smiles of her lover. Could it be 
possible that the gentle girl he had known all his life 
could be so cruel as to betray his friendship like 
this? No, no; it was impossible; but the facts im- 
pressed themselves on him with incontrovertible force. 
The whole thing had been planned and he had been 
lured into the trap. He groaned aloud in his despair, 
and Bayard, who had been watching him, cried : 

“ Do you remember, Pierre Husted, that when we 


WHAT DEEDS DARKNESS COVERS 339 

had that fight when we were boys, I said I would get 
even with you? Now damn you, I’m even.” 

“ Not a very gentlemanly way for an officer to 
treat his prisoner, you coward,” said Pierre with such 
a tone of contempt that Bayard flushed with anger 
and half drew his pistol. Then, completely crushed 
by the treachery of the woman he loved, Pierre added, 
“ You may do with me as you will, and the sooner the 
better. When faith and hope are gone, of what use 
is life?” 

“ A philosophical conclusion,” sneered Bayard ; then 
he said to two of his men, “Secure Captain Husted 
and take him to the camp of Colonel De Brignac of 
the Legion. Say to the Count that I shall report 
to-night or to-morrow and lay the facts of this case 
before him.” 

A rope was produced and Pierre’s hands were se- 
cured and the soldiers marched him from the house. 
Bayard called for the other prisoner to be brought into 
the room, and then went into the schoolroom himself 
and sent all his men out, leaving him alone with Lucie 
de bon Repos. The candle had been relighted, and by 
its light he could see the distressed look of fear and 
horror in her beautiful eyes, for she had heard all that 
had been said in the other room. She had realized 
what Pierre must think of the situation, that he had 
been deliberately entrapped by her. The thought 
almost broke her heart, but she was generous enough 
not to blame him for it when all the circumstances 
within his knowledge pointed directly to the fact, 


340 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


Two things in the conversation she had heard kept 
recurring to her ; first, Bayard’s statement that Pierre 
was a spy, and, secondly, Pierre’s statement that he 
was no longer a soldier and that his proof was at 
Westchester. He would be hanged, and his dear life — 
how dear to her she had never realized till this 
moment — would be blotted out forever. The thought 
brought her most poignant anguish, and she was help- 
less to prevent it. Suddenly, there flashed through her 
mind the discharge at Westchester — the proof of the 
statement. How to get it, that was the question. 

She looked at Bayard with a feeling of repulsion, 
and shrank from his touch as he gently released her 
from her bonds. 

“ I am grieved to the heart, Lucie, that I had to 
treat you so roughly,” he said, “ but the exigencies of 
the case required it, and it was in the line of duty. I 
do not know what scheme the two prisoners were 
hatching, nor shall I ask you. I do not want your 
name to appear in this matter at all ; you are free ; but 
I shall take measures to protect you from further 
annoyance. Remember, always, Lucie, that I love you 
and that the desire of my life is to make you my 
wife.” 

She turned upon him with flashing eyes. 

“ William Bayard, that will never be, for I hate you 
for this night’s work.” 

She swept from the room without another glance, 
and Bayard looked after her in anger and baffled 
pride. 


WHAT DEEDS DARKNESS COVERS 341 


“ She loves him,” he muttered. “ You will pay for 
that remark, my dear. His life stands between me 
and my heart’s desire, and his life will be snuffed out, 
even as I snuff out this candle.” 

He returned to the other room, where was Roscoe. 
The gag had been removed from his mouth, and he had 
been searched. His purse and other belongings were 
lying on the table. 

“ Who are you ? ” asked Bayard, after a prolonged 
stare, “ and what are you doing here in conference 
with a British officer? ” 

“ My name is Roscoe, Captain Roscoe of the brig 
Titania at present. You will see all about it by the 
pass that lies on the table.” 

Roscoe had been in too many tight positions in his 
life to let his present one worry him to any great 
extent, and his coolness and imperturbability had their 
effect upon Bayard. The latter read the pass and 
turned to the prisoner. 

“ This pass appears to be all right ; but what are 
you doing here? Why were you to meet Captain 
Husted ? ” 

“ That, sir, is a matter which concerns myself alone. 
Captain Husted does not know even that I am here. 
He was notified that an old friend wished to see him 
on an entirely personal matter and one in which he was 
deeply concerned ; but the name of the old friend was 
not revealed to him. From the conversation I heard 
between you and him, I should judge that he might 
be under the impression that you are the old friend 


342 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


he was invited to meet. If so, may the Lord preserve 
me from encountering any more of your breed — By 
the way, Major, that gag you had in my mouth was 
devilish unpleasant and has given me a powerful thirst. 
This being the house of a lady, I don’t suppose we 
can get anything to drink ; but they have some passable 
tipple at the tavern, and I’d be glad to have you drink 
to our acquaintance at my expense.” 

His easy manner perplexed Bayard; he could not 
understand the apparent indifference of this adven- 
turer. Roscoe’s last remark had caused all his hearers 
to smile, and one of the soldiers laughed aloud, at 
which Bayard looked black. Roscoe observed it and 
said : 

“ There’s no use getting angry, Major, at my for- 
getting what was due on your part to a guest. If you 
feel so badly about my having made such a mistake 
as to invite you to drink at my expense, I’ll be more 
than pleased to drink at yours.” 

“ Enough of this fooling,” cried Bayard impatiently; 
“ you do not seem to realize, Captain Roscoe, that you 
are in a very ticklish position.” 

“ Shure ! there’s no one realizes it more, Major ; but 
don’t let that worry you, my dear sir. However, I 
thank you for the interest you take in me, as Pat 
Malone said to the devil upon one occasion when Pat 
said he’d had the pleasure of meeting our club-footed 
enemy. He was a sad drunkard that same Pat 
Malone; and after his third bottle he used to see the 
strangest things. I remember once ” 


WHAT DEEDS DARKNESS COVERS 343 


“ Damn your Pat Malone,” interrupted Bayard 
fiercely. 

“With all my heart, Major; but it’s not quite the 
right thing to damn the friends of your friends; for 
you see I already consider myself one of yours.” 

“ We can’t stop here all night. Take this prisoner 
to the headquarters of the Legion and see that he has 
no communication with the other prisoner.” 

The Captain rose at once to accompany his cap- 
tors; but he said more seriously than he had yet 
spoken. 

“ I shall be much obliged to you, sir, if you will per- 
mit my hands to be unbound. I give you my word of 
honor as a gentleman that I will not make any attempt 
to escape.” 

Bayard saw there was a sufficient guard to prevent 
that if Roscoe were to try, but there was also some- 
thing in Roscoe’s face that told him the sailor could 
be relied upon to keep his word. He nodded to the 
soldiers, and in a moment Roscoe’s hands were free. 
He replaced his belongings in his pockets and turned 
to Bayard. 

“ I thank you, Major, for your consideration. 
Good night, sir.” 

“ Good night,” repeated Bayard sullenly, and Ros- 
coe left the room. Bayard then placed a sentry at the 
front of the house and withdrew with the remainder 
of his men. 

Lucie de bon Repos had swept from Bayard’s pres- 
ence with erect head and flashing eyes; once within 


344 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


her own chamber, she fell upon her knees by her bed- 
side and gave way to her fear and grief. 

“ Oh! God,” she cried, “ save his life; save the life 
of my beloved. Please, God, help me in my distress ; 
help me to find the proof of his innocence. The proof, 
O! God, the proof! I love him, I love him! and he 
thinks me false. Let him think so; let me lose his 
love, but save his life, dear God ! ” ^ 

She must have cried and prayed for ten minutes, 
when a sound of footsteps coming along the passage- 
way attracted her attention. The steps stopped at 
her door, which she had locked upon entering. A 
voice, which she recognized as Bayard’s, called her 
name softly; but she gave no response, and after a 
moment she heard him walk away. She listened 
eagerly for further sounds, and in a minute heard 
the footsteps of several men and the closing of the 
front door; then all was still. She rose to her feet, 
carefully opened her door and went to the library, now 
in darkness, and peered out through an opening in the 
shutter. She saw the sentry walking his post and 
drew back; then she went to the rear of the house, 
but there was no one there. She returned to her 
room and changed her dress, putting on her strongest 
shoes. She had determined what she would do ; she, 
herself, would go to Westchester for the proof. She 
left the house by the rear door and fled cautiously 
through the kitchen-garden and gained the road. Now 
that she was clear of the house, she breathed more 
freely. With a softly murmured prayer for protec- 


WHAT DEEDS DARKNESS COVERS 345 


tion and guidance, she started bravely into the gloom 
and stillness of the night. She felt her loneliness, 
and she shuddered at the thought of the night’s hidden 
terrors, but the thought of her errand buoyed her up, 
and she went on steadily and courageously. She 
realized that she must husband her strength, for she 
had a long way to go. She reached the last house of 
the village and did not know that a picket post was 
there. She went by so silently and quickly that the 
sentries, not expecting any one from their rear, rubbed 
their sleepy eyes in amazement, half believing they 
had been dreaming ; but the figure in the road was real 
and they jumped to their feet and grabbed their guns. 
The sharp cry of “ Halt ! ” almost made her heart stop 
its beating, but fear lent wings to her feet and she 
began to run. Again came the menacing cry, “ Halt ! 
or I’ll fire,” but still she kept on, expecting every 
moment to feel the sharp blow of the bullet in her 
back; but none came and no shot was fired. The 
two men had raised their guns and taken aim at the 
fleeing figure ; then one of them had lowered his gun 
and cried : 

“ By God ! Tom ; I can’t fire at a woman. I wuz 
a-waitin’ fer you t’ fire fust.” 

“ Nuther kin I, Bill ; I wuz a’ waitin’ fer you.” 

They looked sheepishly at each other and then down 
the road, but the figure had vanished. 

“ I s’pose we’d oughter go arter her,” said one 
doubtfully. 

“ I s’pose we had oughter,” replied his companion ; 


346 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


“ but she’s outer sight now, ’n’ she wuz a-runnin’ purty 
fas’. I don’t think we c’d ketch her ; besides, we ought 
n’t ter leave our post.” 

They began to wonder who it could have been and 
what she was doing at this time of night and where 
she was going, and a dozen other surmises that kept 
them awake until their reliefs came an hour later ; for 
it was now near eleven o’clock. 

Meanwhile, Lucie had run until her breath had given 
out. She sat down on a stone by the roadside, expect- 
ing every minute to be overtaken ; but no one appeared, 
and after she had recovered her breath, she pushed on 
once more. The road was rough and overgrown with 
weeds, and she kept stumbling into the deep ruts and 
occasionally falling. It was slow work and dreadfully 
fatiguing, and she began to dread that she would not 
be able to accomplish her journey. The thought 
almost broke her heart and the tears came into her 
eyes ; but she set her teeth and said to herself, “ I 
must not fail. His dear life depends upon it.” She 
reached the Hutchinson River and groped her way 
across the stringers of the bridge in the darkness and 
came near slipping into the stream several times. She 
had gotten across safely and had stopped to regain her 
breath when again came a startling challenge which 
brought her heart into her mouth : 

“ Halt ; who comes there. Answer, or I’ll fire.” 

“ Oh ! sir,” she cried, “ do not fire. I’m a woman ; 
a woman in distress and in need of help.” 

She saw several figures running to a place whose 


WHAT DEEDS DARKNESS COVERS 347 

darker shadow showed the position of the sentry ; then, 
after a moment, another voice cried : 

“ You may advance, woman, but slowly.” 

She did as she was told, and in a couple of min- 
utes, the subaltern was amazed to see a young and 
beautiful woman come within recognizable distance. 
His hat came off in an instant, and with a deep bow, 
he said: 

“ Madam, what can we do for you ? This is a Brit- 
ish outpost, and we shall be honored if we can assist 
you.” 

“Oh! sir; I must get to Westchester. A human 
life depends upon it,” she ended with a sob. 

The young fellow’s eyes filled in sympathy — he was 
little more than a boy — and he pondered her words. 
He remembered there was to be, perhaps, a messenger ; 
a messenger from Husted. Was she the messenger? 

“ Whose life, madam? ” he asked eagerly. 

“ Captain Husted’s, sir ; he has been captured and 
they said they — would — hang him as a spy.” 

“ I’m sorry to hear it, madam. I will, myself, escort 
you to Eastchester. Captain Husted’s horse is there, 
and Captain Allen will, I know, see that you get 
safely into Westchester. Are you too tired to go on ? 
Sergeant, take charge of the post in my absence. I’ll 
be back within the hour.” 

“ O ! no, sir ; I’m not too tired. Let us go. Every 
minute counts.” 

The prospect of riding the rest of the way and 
the company of the young fellow over the dreary road 


348 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


put new life into her, and she pressed forward with 
renewed strength. Now that she had some one to lend 
her a helping hand, she did not find the road so rough, 
nor did she stumble and fall as before. It did not 
seem that they had traveled any distance, when, for 
the third time that night, there rang out the cry, 
“Halt! who comes there?” The challenge had be- 
come such a fearful menace to her with its terrifying 
suddenness that unconsciously she pressed against the 
young officer and grasped his arm. He felt a delicious 
thrill and a thought passed through his mind that he 
would like to have sentries challenge every minute 
under these circumstances. He answered : 

“ Friend with the countersign.” 

“ Advance, friend, and give th’ countersign. Corp’- 
ral o’ th’ guard, friend with th’ countersign at post 
two ! ” 

Parkes advanced and whispered to the sentry, who 
was joined by the corporal of the guard, and the lady 
and her escort were taken to Allen’s quarters. That 
officer was aroused and came into the room to which 
Lucie and Parkes had been shown in no pleasant 
state of mind at being disturbed from his sleep at this 
hour of the night. He gave a gasp at the sight of this 
beautiful lady, and suddenly realizing the carelessness 
of his dress, excused himself and retired from the 
room more quickly than he had entered it. He was 
gone so long that Lucie began to think time would be 
lost ; but when he reappeared, he presented so exquisite 
an appearance that Lucie was obliged to smile to 


WHAT DEEDS DARKNESS COVERS 349 


herself. He was very polite and affable, and lis- 
tened to her story with great attention and promised 
his assistance. 

“ Ah ! ” he said, “ I did not know that Husted was 
no longer in the army. I am afraid he misled me ; but 
he had a most powerful excuse for his deception ; there 
were extenuating circumstances ; ” and he smiled gal- 
lantly at his guest. Allen was as good as his word, 
however, and as soon as Lucie had finished, he hur- 
ried matters for her departure, though he apologized 
to her for his apparent anxiety to get rid of her. No 
sidesaddle could be found, so a pillion was put upon 
Pierre’s horse, and an officer and escort of four men 
furnished. Allen would have liked to have gone him- 
self, but he did not dare to leave his post. Parkes 
asked eagerly that he might be allowed to continue to 
act as the lady’s escort, but Allen said superciliously: 

“ You belong to the foot, Ensign Parkes, and are 
an infant in the service. You cubs think you can ride, 
but you are mistaken.” 

“Not ride!” repeated Parkes with utmost con- 
tempt ; “ why, man alive, I was almost born in the 
saddle. I’d like to have you at my home in England, 
and I’d show you whether I could ride or not.” 

Lucie heard enough of the argument to catch its 
drift, and so she requested that if it did not inter- 
fere with his duty, Mr. Parkes might continue to act 
as her escort. Allen graciously consented, and Parkes 
flushed with pleasure and swore in his heart that she 
was an angel and that he would willingly lay down his 


350 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


life for her. She mounted behind him on the pillion, 
and the smitten youth prayed for something to happen 
on the journey so that he might have an opportunity of 
displaying his courage and address in her behalf ; but, 
fortunately, nothing did happen, and they rode into 
Westchester about two o’clock in the morning. A few 
minutes later they arrived at the Husted house and 
the family were aroused. Consternation fell upon 
them all as they heard Lucie’s story, but William 
Husted pointed out clearly what should be done. He 
and his wife would go in the gig with the necessary 
papers to prove Pierre’s innocence, and he had no 
doubt that, under the circumstances, the commander at 
Westchester would permit a flag of truce and make 
the matter official. Lucie looked so rueful at this sug- 
gestion to return without her that Denise said caress- 
ingly while she took the girl in her arms, 

“ I know, my dear child, how anxious you must be 
to hear of Pierre’s safety, but eef you were to under- 
take this journee, eet would kill you. You are now 
almost exhausted, et le bon Dieu knows you haf done 
your duty. You haf more duty still, and that ees to 
keep your health and beauty for Pierre, n’est ce pas ? ” 
Lucie blushed and cast down her eyes, but presently 
raised them and smiled into those of Madam Husted, 
who had so readily found out her secret. Parkes was 
delighted at having been taken into council, and he 
suggested that, owing to the badness of the road and 
the broken-down bridges, a saddle and pillion would 
be preferable to the gig, a suggestion that was adopted. 


WHAT DEEDS DARKNESS COVERS 351 


He went himself to the commander of the post and laid 
the facts of the case before him and pleaded so earn- 
estly for a flag that within half an hour he returned 
glowing with success. Husted and his wife were 
ready and the party at once started. 

“ God grant you may be in time,” prayed Lucie 
wistfully as Denise folded her in her embrace. 

“ Nevaire fear, my child, we shall save heem,” she 
said with a smile which disguised her own terrible 
anxiety. 

“ God bless you for this night’s courtesy and help 
to a distressed woman, Mr. Parkes. I shall never 
forget you or your kindness,” Lucie said at parting 
with the young officer. 

“ If all women were like you, Mistress de bon Repos, 
this world would be a heaven,” returned the enamored 
youth as he kissed her hand. And then the little party 
rode off into the darkness, carrying with it the hopes, 
the fears, the prayers and the love of Lucie de bon 
Repos. 


CHAPTER XXII 


the; court-martial 

The information brought in by the British scouts 
in regard to the movements of the allied armies which 
had been imparted to Pierre before his hazardous 
journey were, in the main, correct. Their failure to 
locate the Americans in New Rochelle was due to the 
fact that it was already evening when the Legion of 
the Due de Lauzan had encamped on the Quaker 
Ridge, north of New Rochelle. Major Bayard, with 
patriotic enthusiasm, had suggested the rapid advance 
of the Continental battalion under his command to 
New Rochelle with the hope of catching some of the 
partisan bands which constituted the principal force 
of the enemy in that quarter. In fact, the forward 
movement of the allied armies was with the object 
of surprising and capturing, if possible, the bands of 
De Lancey, Emmerick and others. The officer of the 
camp of the Due was Colonel the Count de Brignac, 
a soldier of many years’ experience. He was a hand- 
some man of fifty-five, erect and military in his 
bearing, a strict disciplinarian, but kind and humane. 
When in repose, his eyes and face showed an expres- 
sion of deep sadness, due it was said, to some stroke of 
352 


‘ THE COURT-MARTIAL 353 

misfortune in his earlier life, so long ago that none but 
his oldest friends knew what it was. 

It was this gentleman who had given permission to 
Bayard to make his advance, and it was to him that 
Bayard reported on the morning after Pierre’s cap- 
ture the events of the previous evening described in 
the last chapter. As he listened to Bayard’s story 
through the medium of an interpreter, his face gradu- 
ally took on a sad expression, and when Bayard had 
finished, the Count said with a sigh : 

“ This is, apparently, monsieur, a very important 
capture; for these men of whom you tell me were, 
without doubt, conspiring against the allied armies. 
Still, it pierces me to the heart to do my duty in this 
case. I do not feel regret, except that which every 
good man feels, for the losses on the battlefield or in 
a campaign, but it is heartrending to condemn a man 
to an ignominious death in cold blood. I shall order 
a court-martial to try these men at nine o’clock, and 
you will have your witnesses and evidence ready at 
that time.” 

Bayard saluted and withdrew from the large tent 
which the Count occupied. At the appointed hour, 
Pierre was brought, heavily guarded, to the Colonel’s 
tent, where he found already sitting a court of five 
officers: three French and two American. Several 
other officers of both services, whose duty did not call 
them elsewhere had gathered in the tent out of curi- 
osity to hear the trial and to see the prisoners whose 
unhappy fate was already certain, if the rumored 


354 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


report of their actions were true. As the bold, hand- 
some soldierly man was brought in by his captors, he 
looked so unmistakably the gentleman that a wave 
of involuntary sympathy spread through the audience. 
Pierre gave a quick glance over the scene, and at last 
let his dark eyes rest upon the president of the court, 
the Count himself. The Count’s face took on an 
expression of deep sadness for a moment, and he said 
to himself : 

“ Even thus my own son might have looked, were 
he alive.” 

There was, indeed, making allowances for the differ- 
ence of ages, a most extraordinary likeness between 
the prisoner and his judge. The latter’s voice trembled 
slightly as he said : 

“ Captain Pierre Husted, you, an officer in the 
service of the British King, are accused of being within 
the lines of the American army in disguise, in civilian’s 
clothes, on the night of July sixth last past; being 
taken within the said lines ; and you are hereby accused 
of being a spy, in accordance with the law and usages 
of nations ; all of which will be shown by the evidence 
which will be now produced. How is it, sir, that you 
bear a French name — Pierre? ” 

The Count spoke in French, and before the inter- 
preter could translate it into English, Pierre had 
answered : 

“ My mother is French, sir.” 

The Count looked surprised, but one of the Ameri- 
can officers said ; 


THE COURT-MARTIAL 355 

“ There are a great many Huguenot settlers in New 
Rochelle, and the Captain’s mother is probably one 
of them.” 

“ Ah! yes; I see,” commented the Count; then after 
a glance at the prisoner, he continued, u We shall now 
proceed to hear the evidence. Major Bayard, will you 
please be sworn ? ” 

Bayard was sworn and gave his evidence, relating 
the events of the previous evening. When asked how 
he knew that Husted was a British officer, he answered 
that it was a fact so generally known that no further 
proof was necessary. The captain and the soldiers 
who had been present at the capture gave their testi- 
mony, corroborating their commander, and the court 
had already made up their minds of the guilt of the 
prisoner before the last witness had given his evidence. 
The judge-advocate addressed Pierre when his last 
witness had stepped aside. 

“ Captain Husted, you are at liberty to produce any 
witnesses you please, or to make any statements to the 
court which may tend to prove your innocence or to 
show any mitigating circumstances in this case.” 

Just as Pierre was about to speak, two gentlemen 
dressed in black entered the tent. They were evi- 
dently priests, and they were at once given seats with 
a great show of respect on the part of the French offi- 
cers. Pierre glanced at them and was surprised to 
recognize his old friend, Father ' Steinmeyer, alias 
Father Farmer. At the same time, the priest recog- 
nized him and began to talk rapidly in an undertone 


356 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


with one of the French officers, evidently inquiring 
into what had already been done. As soon as the little 
commotion had ceased, the Count looked questioningly 
at the prisoner, who rose and said : 

“ Gentlemen, I desire to state that the evidence given 
by the witnesses is true, but that an entirely wrong con- 
struction has been put upon the fact of my being in 
New Rochelle last night. There is one part of their 
testimony which is not true, and I have no way at 
present of showing its falsity except my own word, 
unless Father Farmer will vouch for my truthfulness 
and honor.” 

“ That I will cheerfully do, Captain,” said the priest; 
then addressing the court, he said, “ I have known 
Pierre Husted from a little lad. Several times, owing 
to the laws of this Province against the priests of my 
religion, my life has been in danger ; and I can do no 
more than to say here that had it not been for the 
help of Pierre Husted I would not, perhaps, be alive to 
say what I am saying now. I know him to be an 
honorable gentleman, as he was an honorable lad, 
and I, myself, would believe without question any 
statement he might make, even under such unfortu- 
nate circumstances as he finds himself at present, when 
his life itself is in danger.” 

The words of the priest made a profound impres- 
sion, and all eyes were turned upon Pierre. He 
bowed respectfully to the priest. 

“ I thank you, sir, for the expression of your good 
opinion. Gentlemen, until the fourth day of July, I 


THE COURT-MARTIAL 


357 


was an officer in De Lancey’s corps of Westchester 
Light Horse, holding at that time the commission of 
captain. Upon that date I ceased to be in the serv- 
ive of His Majesty, King George, and was honorably 
discharged therefrom by His Excellency, Sir Henry 
Clinton; so that I am not a British officer taken in 
disguise within your lines. The papers to prove what 
I have said are at my home in Westchester. Had I 
the time, and the opportunity, I could produce them 
before this court.” 

“ A likely story,” sneered Bayard, so that every one 
could hear. At the same time, he shrugged his shoul- 
ders and raised his eyebrows in a peculiar manner. 
At sight of him, Pierre’s face showed that he was try- 
ing to recognize something that was familiar. In a 
flash, the truth burst into his brain. For an instant 
the raging blood rushed to his head so as to almost 
blind him ; with a wild yell of fury, he flung himself 
at Bayard’s throat like an untamed beast. 

“You are the man ” he shouted; “you scoundrel, 
you seducer of a pure and trusting girl. What infamy 
to mislead her by a false marriage.” 

Instantly, the court was in commotion. Pierre’s 
attack had been so sudden, that Bayard had been borne 
to the earth. The guard sprang to his assistance, and 
it took four of them to remove the madman’s fingers 
from his victim’s throat and release the Major from 
his dangerous position. The two stood glaring at each 
other like wild beasts in the arena, each ready for a 
spring; but the guards held Pierre and several officers 


358 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


had sprung to hold Bayard. Many of the officers had 
drawn their swords, and the Count was shouting in 
stern tones: 

“ Order ! What is the meaning of this outrage upon 
the dignity of this court ? ” 

But neither of the two men paid the slightest atten- 
tion to the others. As soon as the purple color began 
to subside from Bayard’s face and he could regain his 
breath, he panted: 

“ It’s a lie ! it’s a lie ! I had nothing to do with your 
sister.” 

“ Your own child has identified you ” shouted 
Pierre ; and at the words, Bayard shrank as if he had 
been struck. 

(( It is the truth ” cried another voice; and every 
one turned to see Father Steinmeyer pointing at 
Bayard with accusing finger. Bayard stared at the 
priest in astonishment ; and the spectators could see rec- 
ognition working in his features. His jaw dropped, 
and with a cry of despair he sank into a seat in a state 
of stupefaction. 

“ You see that he recognizes me,” said the priest ; 
“ I will tell you the story.” 

With wonderment in their faces, they resumed their 
seats and listened eagerly to the priest as he told his 
story. Pierre was almost as much overcome at this 
sudden and unexpected entrance of the priest into the 
affair as Bayard; and so rapt was his attention to 
every word the priest uttered that his guards had to 
put forth no effort to keep him in his seat. 


THE COURT-MARTIAL 


359 


“ Gentlemen,” began Father Steinmeyer, “ some six 
years ago I made one of my surreptitious visits to 
my parishioners in this and Putnam county, and was 
on my return to the mother-house on the Delaware. 
I stopped one night at Cock’s tavern at Kingsbridge.” 
(Pierre leaned eagerly forward at these words, and 
a gasp of surprise escaped him.) “ I had arrived late 
and was waiting for the landlord to prepare something 
for me to eat, when horses came to the door, and a 
young man who had been walking restlessly about the 
coffee-room, left the room to meet these apparently 
expected guests. He was gone some little time, and 
I fell into a half-dozing state when the sound of voices 
in animated conversation awoke me. Accustomed as 
I am to every kind of danger and the necessity of avert- 
ing all attention or suspicion from myself, I deemed it 
best to pretend that I was asleep. There were two 
young men : the one who had left the room and a new- 
comer. They were so deep in argument that they 
were not careful of their voices, and so I heard the 
matter in dispute between them. The newcomer had 
eloped with a girl who, I karned from their conversa- 
tion, was good and virtuous and of excellent family, 
and the young man had promised to marry her. She 
was still pure in heart and body. The friend — Odell, 
I learned was his name — had agreed to impersonate 
a minister and perform the marriage ceremony; but 
at the last minute his conscience had pricked him so 
that he had refused to do it. Hence, the argument. 
Bayard, for he was the newcomer, said that the girl 


360 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


would go no farther with him unless there were a 
ceremony; and at last, he asked Odell who I was. 
Then followed a whispered conversation, and they 
approached me and suggested that I perform the sham 
ceremony. I questioned him thoroughly and then 
asked to see the girl and questioned her. I realized 
that Bayard had so much power over her, and that she 
loved him so intensely that worse might come of it, 
and so I consented to perform the ceremony for the 
sake of saving that sweet girl from shame. But first, 
I wanted my own conscience clear, and so I told them I 
was a Catholic priest. The young men were aston- 
ished, but Bayard whispered to his friend, ‘ He plays 
his part well.’ I was on the point of withdrawing from 
the affair, but the thought of the innocent girl and the 
fact that she was the sister of Pierre Husted, to whom 
I was under so many obligations, made me go on with 
the ceremony. I think that when Bayard saw me take 
my book from my coat and proceed with the marriage 
rite as if I were accustomed to it and the use of the 
Latin phrases, he realized that I had spoken the truth ; 
for he looked alarmed. It was too late now to recede, 
and so the couple were married, and I furnished 
the young woman with a proper certificate. When I 
returned to the mother-house, I told the father super- 
ior of what I had done, and he approved. This, gen- 
tlemen, is the story. Whether the marriage is legal 
under the laws of this Province or State, I know not ; 
but I do know that in the sight of God, Sarah Husted 
is the lawful wife of William Bayard.” 


THE COURT-MARTIAL 


361 


Bayard had appeared crushed as the priest’s story 
progressed, and as the priest ended with his arm raised 
to heaven as if calling God, himself, to witness the 
truth of what he had said, a deep hush fell upon the 
gathering; to be broken by a hearty “ Thank God! ” 
from Pierre. The meeting came to itself with a long 
drawn sigh and every eye was directed toward Bayard 
with looks of the utmost contempt. He could stand 
it no longer, but rose and glared at the priest. 

“ It is not legal,” he shouted ; “ I am a lawyer, and 
I know.” 

A storm of hisses greeted his remark ; he flushed in 
angry discomfiture and stalked from the tent. Pierre’s 
heart had given a bound as he realized that Bayard 
was no longer in his path; then it had melted in 
generous sympathy. 

“ Poor Lucie ! ” he said to himself ; “ What unhap- 
piness for her ; for she loves him.” 

A dead silence followed Bayard’s withdrawal. The 
Count de Brignac, evidently much moved by the story 
he had heard, was struggling with his feelings, but in 
a minute he had recovered his usual equanimity and 
said : 

“If there is nothing further to be said on either side 
of this case before the court, the room will be cleared 
and the court left to its deliberations.” 

Every one at once left the tent except the five offi- 
cers constituting the court-martial; and little groups 
gathered to discuss the extraordinary tale to which 
they had just listened. Father Steinmeyer approached 


362 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


Pierre with the French priest, whom he introduced as 
the Abbe Robin, chaplain of the French army. At 
the expiration of ten minutes the officer in charge 
of the ceremonies came to the door of the tent and 
motioned for the guard to bring in their prisoner, and 
the spectators, greatly increased in numbers by the 
rumors of the unusual proceedings, filed in after him. 
When all was quiet the Count turned to the officer in 
charge and ordered : 

“ Bring in the other prisoner.” He turned slowly 
and sadly to Pierre. “ Captain Husted, after a care- 
ful consideration of your case, a majority of this court 
has decided that you are a British officer, taken within 
our lines in disguise on an errand inimical to the lib- 
erties of the United States, and that you are amena- 
ble to the laws and usages of nations concerning the 
matter of spies. The report in this case will be sent 
at once to the Due de Lauzan, commanding the Legion, 
to be forwarded by him to their Excellencies, General 
Washington and the Count de Rochambeau, for their 
consideration.” 

Pierre stood facing the Count. As his doom fell 
upon his ears, he grew pale; but he steadied himself 
as the Count finished and said : 

“ Monsieur, I wish to assure you in the most sol- 
emn manner that this court has made a mistake; a 
mistake which time will reveal too late, perhaps, to 
prevent my death, but not too late to clear my honor 
of the imputation put upon it. I wish to thank you, 
sir, for your consideration and kindness and to recom- 


THE COURT-MARTIAL 


363 


mend to you the sister of whom so much has here 
been revealed, and that the truth may be conveyed to 
my father and mother at Westchester, if possible. 
Whoever, sir, constituted the majority of this court 
that found this most unjust verdict, I am sure, sir, 
that you are not one that consented to send me to an 
ignominious death.” 

He bowed and started to withdraw, surrounded by 
his guards. He had taken but a few steps toward 
the exit when he came face to face with Captain 
Roscoe, who was being brought in by his guards, and 
who had evidently heard Pierre’s last words, for he 
cried out in dismay: 

“ Pierre, Pierre, my lad ; it is I that have brought 
this upon you.” 

“ Captain Roscoe, what do you mean ? What are 
you doing here — a prisoner ? ” 

Before anything more could be said, their guards 
pushed them apart, and Roscoe came before the court. 
At sight of the Count, he uttered a cry of mortal 
terror and shrank back as if he would escape, but his 
guards prevented. 

“ Pierre de Brignac ! ” he gasped, his teeth chatter- 
ing in fear. 

The sound of Roscoe’s frenzied cry had caused 
Pierre’s guards to stop, and now all stood and watched 
this strange scene. The Count de Brignac had risen 
slowly at sight of Roscoe and now stood, grasping the 
back of his chair, his face pale with fury. He tried 
several times to speak before he succeeded, and then 


364 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


his words came with a slowness as if he were forcing 
them out by sheer strength of will. At the sound of 
his voice, Roscoe shrank back farther and farther 
until he was pressing against his guards. 

“James Blake — or Jacques de Brignac: What — 
have — you — done — with — my — child ? ” 

The words sounded terrible to Roscoe’s guilty con- 
science, and he collapsed utterly. He tried to speak, 
but could not. Then he waved his arm as if trying to 
point, but his strength was so gone that his arm 
dropped to his side, and his guards had to support 
him. But few of the spectators understood French; 
but they were held spellbound by the speechless terror 
of Roscoe and by the furious glare of the Count, a 
look that seemed trying to read Roscoe’s soul and force 
from it its guilty secret. 

So absolute was the attention of the spectators to 
the exciting scene that they did not hear a horse come 
to the door of the tent, nor see the entrance of a 
man and a woman who had dismounted. The woman 
pressed in eagerly and asked the first person sitting 
near the door : 

“ What has been done with Captain Husted? ” 

“ Sssh ! he has been sentenced to death as a spy” 

A wild scream of terror broke from her lips and she 
staggered into the tent, groping blindly toward the 
table at which the court sat. Her scream diverted 
attention from the two men for a moment and all 
looked at her. She held out her hands in wild appeal, 
and her face showed the anguish of her soul. 


THE COURT-MARTIAL 


365 


“ Gentlemen ! ” she cried, “ you hafe made a mees- 
take. Here are the papers; see, I hafe the papers.” 
Her gaze encountered that of the Count de Brignac 
and she shuddered and shrank back; then she said in 
French, and her voice showed her horror: 

“My God! monsieur le Comte de Brignac , what 
have you done ? Do you know you have sentenced to 
death your own son? ” 

The curiosity of the guards in the strange scene 
being enacted had caused them to relax their disci- 
pline ; and at the entrance and scream of Denise, Pierre 
had sprung to her side. Now he threw his arms about 
her, as if to shield her and cried : 

“ Mother, dear mother ! ” and gazed almost defiantly 
at this Count who had just been proclaimed his 
father, and who, he thought, had so wronged this dear 
woman. 

“My son!” the Count cried in incredulous amaze- 
ment, and staggered as if from a blow. He looked 
from one to the other of the actors in the scene. 

“ Jacques de Brignac, Denise Chantier, is this 
true ? ” 

“ It is true,” they cried simultaneously ; and then he 
reached out his arms to Pierre and cried yearningly, 
“ My son ; my Pierre ! ” 

But Pierre only folded his arms the tighter around 
Denise and refused to meet the Count’s glance. 

“ Why do you not go to him ? ” cried Denise. 
“ See, he longs for thee ; he has not seen thee since 
thou wert an infant.” 


366 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


“He hath wronged thee, my mother ; and I cannot 
accept him.” 

“ Nay, my Pierre; it is I that hath wronged him. 
I am not thy mother ” 

Slowly he relaxed his arms from about her and 
looked at the man who called him so longingly. He 
went to the Count’s side and said softly : 

“ My father ! ” and the Count’s arms folded him 
within their embrace and the father cried, as the strong 
man broke into tears of joy: 

“ My son ! my Pierre ! thou art such a man as I 
would have thee. I thank God that I have found 
thee.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


A PRISONER ON PAROEE 

For several minutes the spectators gazed at the 
Count de Brignac and his newly found son in sympa- 
thetic silence. The Count gradually recovered his 
composure, and called for a chair to be placed by his 
side for Pierre; so anxious he seemed not to be sepa- 
rated again from his recovered child. His face lost 
its habitual expression of sadness, and it was with 
a new light in his eyes that he looked over the 
assemblage. 

“ Denise Chantier, did I not hear you say something 
about papers to prove the innocence of Pierre de Brig- 
nac, formerly known as Captain Husted ? ” 

“ Yes, m’sieur le comte, they are here; we brought 
them from Westchester.” 

The Count took the papers and glanced over them 
with the interpreter ; then he said triumphantly : 

“ Gentlemen, here are the proofs of my son’s hon- 
esty. Here is the acceptance of his resignation from 
the British army, his discharge from the same; both 
dated the fourth day of this current month, and a note 
from some one signing herself Lucie de bon Repos, 
asking him to come to New Rochelle to learn about his 
367 


368 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


birth from an old friend whom he was to meet.” He 
passed the papers to the other officers of the court 
for their inspection and turned to Captain Roscoe. 

“ You, Jacques de Brignac, my brother, were that 
old friend ? ” 

“ Yes, Pierre ; fate had thrown me in your son's way, 
and though I should have hated him, I learned to 
love him. Conscience brought me at last to confess 
the wrong I had done him and to reveal to him the 
secret of his birth. I live a roving life ; and this is the 
first time that I have been in the vicinity since five 
years. It was chance alone — call it fate, if you will — 
that brought about my meeting with Mam’selle de bon 
Repos in New Rochelle. Through her I was able to 
communicate with Pierre. I have done you great 
wrong, Pierre, my brother, and I humbly ask your 
forgiveness.” 

“ The joy of this moment compensates for the sor- 
row of years, and I forgive you. I, also, wronged you 
in the past, and you, too, have something to pardon 
me; but of that, later.” He turned to his son : “ Who 
is this Lucie de bon Repos ? ” 

Pierre's face flushed at the question; but as he 
thought of her supposed treachery and her love for 
Bayard, his face paled. At Roscoe's admission, he had 
been inclined to doubt her treachery, and a throb of 
joy had passed through him ; to be followed an instant 
later by the thought that she had taken advantage of 
the meeting to communicate with her lover and arrange 
for his own capture. 


A PRISONER ON PAROLE 369 

“ She is — or was — an old friend/’ he answered 
sadly to his father’s question. 

“ Nothing more?” asked the Count, eying his son 
keenly. 

“ Nothing more, my father,” responded Pierre with 
the deepest gloom, but flushing again slightly. 

By this time the other officers of the court had fin- 
ished their inspection of the papers brought by Denise 
and one of the Americans said : 

“ Colonel de Brignac, we have concluded that our 
decision in the case of Captain Husted was wrong; 
and in view of this later evidence in his behalf, we 
wish to reverse our former finding and to declare that 
he is not guilty of the charges brought against him.” 

“ I thank you, gentlemen. In view of what has 
been disclosed here, I judge that it is not necessary to 
proceed to the consideration of the charges against 
the so-called Captain James Roscoe. I, therefore, 
declare this court discharged from further duty.” 

The American officers consented with an appearance 
of polite willingness, but inwardly, they were much 
disappointed at the turn of affairs. They had voted 
at once for Husted’s conviction, hating all De Lancey’s 
officers and men as they did and believing that, even 
if Pierre were not guilty in this present case, his 
actions in the past had brought upon him a deserved 
punishment. One of the French officers had voted 
with them, believing that they knew more of the condi- 
tions than the French, and thus had a majority been 
gained for conviction. On the reconsideration, the 


370 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


Americans were unwilling to reverse ; but they remem- 
bered Washington’s orders to his officers and men to 
show the utmost consideration and to display the 
greatest courtesy toward their allies, the French, 
and had bowed to what they considered a special 
act of courtesy to the Count de Brignac, a gentle- 
man too high in rank and position for them to risk 
offending. With the dissolution of the court, all with- 
drew from the tent with the exception of those whom 
we already know. The Count gazed upon his sort 
tenderly and said: 

“ My Pierre, I suppose thou dost wish to hear how' 
it is that thou art my son and the heir to the title of 
De Brignac. Such part as I can tell thee I will; 
but thou wilt have to ask these others for much, for 
I am as ignorant of many matters as thou art. More 
thou wilt learn later as time passes of the noble house 
to which thou dost belong, and of the part it hath 
played in the history of France.” 

Pierre pressed his father’s hand ; for the Count held 
Pierre’s in one of his own as if afraid that his son 
would once more escape him. What Pierre learned 
from his father and later was briefly this : 

Brignac, the small town from which the counts 
derived their title, was in the Province of Guienne on 
the river Garonne. The family had ruled over the 
portion of the fertile valley in which the town is situ- 
ated for several hundred years, Pierre’s grandfather, 
Phillipe de Brignac, had been an officer in the service 
of Louis XV., and had married a lady of noble family 


A PRISONER ON PAROLE 


371 


in the province of Angouleme. The fruit of this 
union was Colonel Pierre de Brignac, the present 
Count, whose mother died when he was about a year 
old. In the year 1730, Phillipe de Brignac went on a 
mission for his king to Ireland with the object of 
finding what support would be given by the inhabit- 
ants of that country to the cause of the exiled Stuarts, 
in case the King of France should take steps to replace 
them on the English throne. While in Ireland, Count 
Phillipe met a very beautiful girl, Margaret Blake, the 
daughter of a country gentleman of County Clare, 
and, it was stated, married her secretly in order to 
escape the jealousy and enmity of a lady high in favor 
at the court of Louis XV. who had become enamored 
of Count Phillipe. A son was born of this connection, 
who was named James, or Jacques. When James was 
about two years old, his father, Count Phillipe, was 
lost in the Channel while returning from one of his 
visits to Ireland. The elder son, Pierre, was left to 
the care of his guardian in consequence, while still less 
than ten years of age. 

Margaret Blake was known as Madame de Brignac ; 
but as her father was a well-to-do gentleman, and she 
was his only child, she took no steps to claim any part 
of the estate of Count Phillipe, knowing that he had 
left a son about five years older than her own. The 
young James was provided with tutors and taught his 
father's language, but he was more addicted to sports 
than to his lessons. 

He matriculated at Trinity College, and was gradu- 


372 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


ated from that venerable institution when he was 
about twenty years of age. Shortly afterwards, his 
maternal grandfather died; and when his estate came 
to be settled up, it was found that very little was left 
for his only daughter. She then bethought her of 
Count Phillipe’s estate in Guienne and sent James to 
establish her and his claim in it. He took vessel to 
Bordeaux, ascended the Garonne, and presented him- 
self with his documents at the Chateau of his half- 
brother, Pierre. The latter, while acknowledging the 
relationship, under the advice of his notaries, refused 
to acknowledge that his father, Count Phillipe, had 
been married to the Irish lady. During the six months 
that it took the notaries to come to this decision, James 
lived with his brother at the Chateau de Brignac, and 
the two were, if not close friends, at least, on friendly 
terms; for there was a spirit of good-comradeship 
about the half-Frenchman which made him popular 
with all he met. 

In the neighborhood of Brignac was a charming and 
beautiful girl of eighteen, Louise de la Falaise, with 
whom the two brothers fell violently in love. It was 
generally supposed that she was inclined to the 
younger brother, but she married the elder. Within 
a year of the marriage, a son was born to her who 
was named after his father, Pierre, whose adventures 
have been described in this story. 

“ After my brother’s marriage,” said Roscoe, “ I 
should have left the Chateau de Brignac, for I was 
deeply in love with his wife, and believed that that 


A PRISONER ON PAROLE 


373 


love was reciprocated and that her marriage to Pierre 
had been one of policy. In this, however, I later 
found I was mistaken; for she was a good, true 
woman, and when I had the audacity to offer her my 
love, she rejected me with the crudest and bitterest 
contempt. I felt that my brother had defrauded me 
of her love, and the daily exhibition of their happiness 
hurt me to the soul ; still, I could not tear myself away, 
for I was so madly in love. I lingered on for a year 
and a half, though my mother wrote me many times 
to return to her in Ireland; and at last, some demon 
of hell suggested to me the idea of revenge upon the 
Count for his injustice to my mother and his injury 
to myself. Louise was passionately fond of her baby 
boy, as was the Count, and I decided to revenge myself 
through the child. I looked about for means, and 
found then in the person of a pure and happy girl, 
Denise Chantier. How accursed was the day on which 
I came tQ the conclusion I did and ruined the lives of 
so many people and caused so much unhappiness. 
Thank God that He put forth his hand to undo all the 
evil I did; though, alas! I cannot bring to life again 
the unfortunate Louise. ,, 

Roscoe’s voice fell away, the tears filled his eyes, 
and so terrible were his sorrow and repentance that 
the Count was moved to deepest pity. He put forth 
his hand and took that of his brother. 

“ Jacques,” he said gently, “ I have to beg your for- 
giveness. It is true I was unjust to your mother, but 
it was through ignorance, not through intention. I 


374 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


was too busily engaged in pressing my love affair with 
Louise to give that attention to your demands for 
recognition which they deserved. Instead, I left the 
decision to my notaries. About a year after the loss 
of my son and the death of my wife, which followed 
almost immediately afterwards, I determined to devote 
myself more thoroughly to my business affairs and 
not leave them in the hands of my lawyers. Upon 
looking over my father’s private papers, I discovered 
one in which he gave a full account of his marriage 
with Margaret Blake and called upon me to assist his 
widow and son should they need such assistance. 
This letter the lawyers had known; but after long 
consultation with each other, they decided to suppress 
the information in order to save the estate intact for 
me and my heirs, should I have any. Fortunately, 
they did not destroy the paper, which they could easily 
have done to cover up their own villainy, thinking that 
I would never discover it on account of my indifference 
to business affairs, and afraid to do so through some 
point of honor which seemed to them due to their 
profession.” 

There was silence for a few minutes while the 
two brothers embraced and gave to each other their 
mutual forgiveness. Then all looked at Denise, sit- 
ting quietly beside her husband. When Roscoe had 
referred to her as a “ pure and happy ” girl, William 
Husted had looked into her eyes with fondest love 
and had pressed her hand. Notwithstanding the 
nobility of his character and his ardent love for his 


A PRISONER ON PAROLE 375 

wife, there had always been “ a little rift within the 
lute ” when he thought of his wife’s supposed oldest 
son. Denise looked at Pierre, her sometime son, as 
she told her story simply. 

“ My father was a notary in Brignac and was a 
highly respected and well-to-do man. Through some 
difference with Count Phillipe, the latter withdrew 
his business from my father, so that he was not one 
of the notaries employed by Count Pierre. Our family 
consisted of my parents, an elder brother Louis and 
two boys and two girls younger than myself. We 
were Protestants in religion and my brother Louis 
became a minister. In order to blind the authorities, 
I was sent to a convent to be educated and there I 
met Louise de la Falaise. As we were from the same 
neighborhood, notwithstanding the difference in our 
social positions, we became friends, and after her 
marriage to the Count Pierre, I was a constant visitor 
at the Chateau, and cared for and loved you almost as 
much as did your mother. When you were about four 
months old, Jacques de Brignac, or as he was known 
to us, James Blake, discovered that my brother was in 
the habit of preaching secretly to our small congrega- 
tion. I was an innocent and ignorant girl of seven- 
teen and loved my brother devotedly. Blake took 
advantage of my inexperience to prey upon my fears 
by threatening to expose my brother and bring down 
upon him the rigors of the law, which he painted in 
glowing colors to my terrified imagination. At last, 
he swore me to secrecy and unfolded his plan to steal 


376 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


you from the Chateau. I was horrified, and refused 
to assist him; but he had such complete mastery over 
me that at last he forced me to do his bidding. 

“ An English ship, whose master was an Irishman, 
was on the point of sailing from Bordeaux with a 
cargo of wine and brandy for Hamburgh. This 
Irishman was from the same county as Blake and was 
a devoted adherent of the Blake family. He agreed to 
take me and the child to Hamburgh, where I was to 
meet Blake, who was to come overland by another 
route in order to avert suspicion and throw any likely 
pursuers off the track. The night of the abduction 
came. Filled with dread, and trembling so that my 
limbs could hardly support me, I prepared a bundle 
of clothes and went secretly to a spot on the Garonne 
that Blake had pointed out. Here I entered the boat 
from the ship, whose crew consisted of Irishmen, and 
we drifted to a designated spot on the grounds of the 
Chateau. We waited for probably half an hour; and 
words cannot express the dreadful state of mind I 
was in while waiting for Blake. I begged the crew to 
take me back; to let me land, but either they could 
not, or would not, understand me; and when I at- 
tempted to leave the boat, they held me back forcibly.” 

Even at the recollection of this dreadful time, 
Denise began to tremble, she grew white and her 
tongue refused to go on. Pierre patted her hand 
gently and called, “ dear mother ; ” while the Count 
held a glass of wine to her lips. In a few minutes she 
recovered her composure enough to proceed. 


A PRISONER ON PAROLE 


377 


“ At last we heard a slight noise in the bushes at 
our hiding place and James Blake emerged. He passed 
a bundle into my arms and whispered, ‘ Here is the 
child/ I opened the bundle eagerly, disclosing your 
sleeping features. With a cry of joy, I pressed you 
to my heart and swore that I would permit no harm 
to come to you. The touch of your dear, little form 
restored me to some sense of my surroundings, so that 
I was conscious enough to take and hide within my 
dress a purse which Blake pressed into my hand, 
saying, ‘ Take these and guard them well ; they will 
support you and the child should misfortune come/ 
Then he whispered fiercely, ‘ Do not forget your oath 
of silence, or it will be the worse for you. If you 
should divulge the secret of this night’s work, your 
brother’s doom is sealed, and as for you — though 
years should elapse and seas separate us, I will 
find means to reach you and punish you and yours. 
Remember / I shrank back into the boat completely 
overcome with terror at his words; a terror so pro- 
found and lasting that though I have passed many 
happy and peaceful years in apparent safety, and 
have neither seen nor heard of James Blake from that 
night until to-day, yet I have suffered suspicion and 
obloquy rather than break my oath of silence and risk 
the vengeance of this man who so absolutely terrorized 
my youthful imagination. Then he disappeared in 
the darkness, and at the same moment, we pushed off 
from the shore and the rowers bent to their oars with 
so steady a pull that we reached the side of the vessel 


378 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 

at Bordeaux several hours before dawn. No time 
was lost in getting underway, and when day broke, we 
were clear of the river, the wind being in our favor. 

“ We reached Hamburgh, but though I waited for 
days, Blake did not come. I examined the purse 
Blake had given me and found that it contained jewels 
of considerable value. These, I vowed to myself, I 
would never use except for your necessities. The 
people with whom I was thrown in contact took it for 
granted that the child was mine; and I never thought 
it worth while to contradict the idea; for I was con- 
scious of my own innocence and I could not admit to 
any one that I was actually guilty of the crime of kid- 
napping an innocent child. Not even to my husband 
could I confess that; and as I had his love and faith 
and respect what did the rest matter? During the 
time of my waiting, the Irish captain had been very 
kind. His ship was free of her cargo at last, and he 
was ready to sail away. He had a talk with me, and 
as my money was nearly exhausted — I did not tell 
him about the jewels — he advised that I go to the 
American plantations, and he would tell Blake of my 
destination; so I came on the ship to New York, and 
the rest you know/ 

Roscoe at once took up the story. 

“ When I had given the child and the purse to 
Denise, I mounted my horse and rode off into the 
darkness, full of joy and exultation. I was not 
caught, so thoroughly had I planned my route and 
course of action; but as I got farther and farther 


A PRISONER ON PAROLE 


379 


away from Brignac, my feeling of triumph grew less 
and less, until the full horror of the dishonorable act 
I had performed burst into my startled brain. I would 
have turned back, but there was Denise to meet at 
Hamburgh. Then I formed a new resolution : to meet 
Denise and Pierre and to take them back. My imagi- 
nation pictured to me the dreadful grief my act would 
cause, and I could see the agony of Louise and of my 
brother. To blot out these thoughts, I took to drink- 
ing; and one morning, in one of the petty German 
states, I waked up to find myself penniless, some 
strangers with whom I had been drinking the preced- 
ing evening having robbed me. I reported the matter 
to the authorities but they did not succeed in catching 
the thieves, who had even made away with my horse 
and saddle bags. The landlord of the inn soon turned 
me out, as he saw no way of getting his pay; and I 
started to walk to Hamburgh. I became a vagrant, 
and was arrested and taken before a magistrate, who 
seeing I was a likely young fellow gave me the choice 
of prison or the army. I chose the latter, but I did 
not get an opportunity to desert for two years. Then 
I made my way back to Ireland, where I found that 
my mother had died a year before in the greatest 
penury. O’Rourke, the Irish captain who had taken 
Denise to Hamburgh, had been lost at sea, and thus 
all trace of Denise and Pierre was lost. I swore over 
my mother’s grave that if fate ever brought me in 
contact with the child again, I would avenge her suf- 
ferings. I assumed the name of Roscoe and took to 


380 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


the adventurous life of the sea, and in the course of 
my wanderings, became among other things, a smug- 
gler. It was thus that I first met Pierre. I did not 
see him again till years afterwards, when he saved me 
from some footpads. When I recovered my senses 
from the blow, I was horror-struck to find, as I sup- 
posed, my own brother looking into my face; and it 
was then I uttered the cry which must have surprised 
him. I questioned him, and found from his answers 
that there was no doubt of his identity. Then I 
determined to get him into my power and ruin his life 
as mine had been ruined; but his inborn virtue and 
strength of character made him withstand my devilish 
machinations and aroused my respect. I had already 
begun to like him for his good qualities, notwithstand- 
ing my will was exerted to hate him. At last, he 
saved my life and placed me under such obligations to 
him, that, to escape the conflict of my contending emo- 
tions, I fled into the wilderness. My conscience gave 
me no rest until I determined to find him at the first 
opportunity and tell him the story of his parentage.” 

All was at last made clear, but after a moment, the 
Count turned to Denise and asked reproachfully : 

“ Why did you not send me word of your location 
and tell me the story of the abduction ? I would have 
forgiven you all for the return of my child.” 

“ I did, m’sieur le comte, twice, but I never heard ; 
and at last, I gave up the attempt. I loved Pierre as 
if he had been my own, and I had formed new rela- 
tions with my dear husband, who took me to his heart 


A PRISONER ON PAROLE 381 

even with a dreadful suspicion upon me. — Thou art a 
good man, my William.” 

She turned upon her husband a look full of wor- 
ship and devotion, and his eyes showed how much he 
returned her love. This story relieved him, too, of 
feelings of which he had been almost unconscious — 
feelings of jealousy of the man who had been first in 
his wife’s love and to whom she had given all she had 
to give before she had met him — and lo ! there was no 
such other man. 

“ ’Tis strange,” said the Count de Brignac; “ your 
letters never reached me, Denise. After the death 
of my dear Louise, I entered the army, and it may 
be that I missed receiving your letters from chang- 
ing my location so often; or the letters, or one of 
them, may have reached Brignac and been destroyed 
in a fire which consumed part of the Chateau during 
one of my absences. In fact, my steward informed me 
that there had come a letter from America which he 
had not sent to me because there was no messenger 
convenient and because I had sent him word of my 
return within a few days. It was from the fire that 
was lighted in my rooms in anticipation of my return 
that the Chateau caught. I returned two days later 
but when my steward informed me of the American 
letter, I gave it but little thought, supposing it was 
from some friend serving there in the army or travel- 
ing through the Colonies. 

During these several recitals, Pierre had listened 
with wonderment. Now that the mystery of his birth 


382 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


had been cleared, he felt an extraordinary feeling of 
elation; and he realized how deeply the doubt had 
entered into his soul, much deeper than he had had any 
idea of. It was hard to analyze his feelings; there 
was such confusion in his mind; but as he thought 
over the events of the morning and of his trial, he 
wondered how it was that Denise and her husband 
had arrived so opportunely. 

“ How could you have known, my mother, that I 
was in such dangerous straits, and that I needed those 
papers to clear me of the charge of being a spy.” 

“ A little bird told me, Pierre ; a little bird which 
out of its great love for you traveled through the 
danger and the darkness of the night from New 
Rochelle to Westchester to bring us word; and the 
little bird’s name is Mistress Lucie de bon Repos.” 

Pierre’s heart gave a great leap. She had done 
this brave thing for him! He doubted no longer. 
“She loves me, she loves me!” his heart sang; and 
the joy of it showed in his face. The Count watched 
him closely, but said nothing; for so full of joy was 
he himself that he could sympathize with this unknown 
joy of his son’s. A servant entered and whispered 
something to the Count. 

“ Serve the dinner in here,” he said. “ It should 
be a feast of rejoicing, but I am afraid you will have 
to put up with soldier’s fare. At least we can have the 
rejoicing, if we cannot have the feast,” he added with 
a humorous twinkle, as he passed his arm lovingly 
about Pierre’s shoulders. 

It was a happy meal, though occasionally there were 


A PRISONER ON PAROLE 


383 


shadows; for Denise questioned the Count about her 
own people, and smiles and tears passed alternately 
over her face as she received his answers. She thanked 
God to learn that her father and mother were still 
alive, though very old, and that the rest of her family 
were happily married with grown-up children of their 
own. The dinner had been finished, and they were 
about ready to rise from the table, when the sound of 
horses’ ieet was heard, and a minute later, a hand- 
some gentleman in dashing uniform entered the tent. 
The Count rose at his entrance and bowed with great 
respect. The newcomer gave a quick glance at the 
group, and seeing Denise, removed his hat and made 
a sweeping bow ; for the Due de Lauzan was very sus- 
ceptible to the graces of the fair sex, even to such 
matronly beauty as that of Denise. 

“ To what do I owe the honor of this visit, m’sieur 
le due ? ” asked the Count. 

“ Major Bayard, of the American army, reported at 
my quarters about an hour ago that he had captured 
two spies last night in New Rochelle while conspiring 
against the cause of American liberty, and that one of 
them is an officer of the British army taken in disguise. 
I have ridden over with my staff to hear what action 
you have taken in the matter besides that of the court- 
martial which I understand you ordered.” 

“ Major Bayard, I am afraid, m’sieur le due, has 
drawn somewhat on his imagination. Had he not 
left the court before the conclusion of the trial he 
would have learned more fully that his suspicions in 
regard to these two gentlemen were erroneous. I have. 


384 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


the honor of introducing them to your attention : my 
brother, Jacques de Brignac, and my son, Pierre de 
Brignac.” 

The Due looked at the Colonel in astonishment, but 
returned the bows of the two gentlemen thus intro- 
duced to him. 

“ I did not know you had a son and a brother, De 
Brignac. Come, tell me the meaning of this.” He 
seated himself, and so did the others ; then the Count 
told him briefly, with smiling and joyous face, the main 
facts of the wonderful story. At its conclusion, the 
Due shook them all by the hand and fairly wrung that 
of the Count. 

“ This is one of the most extraordinary tales I ever 
listened to, De Brignac. Not a word of it, I beg you, 
to any one, so that I may have the pleasure of telling 
it myself to their Excellencies, Washington and 
Rochambeau. I congratulate you from the bottom of 
my heart on the recovery of your son.” He turned 
to Pierre. “ I understand, M’sieur de Brignac, that 
you have been an officer in the regiment of De Lancey. 
What do you intend to do now ? ” 

This was a question which Pierre had not yet asked 
himself. If he had answered it as his heart dictated, 
he would have said, “ I shall go to Eucie as fast as 
my horse will carry me.” Instead, he looked inquir- 
ingly to his father. 

“ It would not be proper to ask him to serve with 
us against his former comrades,” said the Count. 

“No; of course not,” said the Due with decision; 


A PRISONER ON PAROLE 


385 


then he looked at father and son. “ I think, sir, that 
we shall have to hold you as a prisoner, as it would be 
too dangerous to permit you to return to the British 
lines; they might prevail upon you or force you 
to take up arms again. We shall hold your father 
responsible for your future conduct. Give him your 
parole, and we will send you to Boston, and when we 
return to France, you may return with your father.” 

At this determination of his future career, Pierre 
looked his dismay; whereupon the Due, who was 
watching him, laughed. 

“ Come, M'sieur de Brignac, you are not satisfied 
I see. There must be a woman in the case to over- 
come the joy of regaining a father. What would you 
have ? ” he asked with a shrug. 

“ But, sir, I need not go at once? ” 

“ But certainly not, sir. We may be on this cam- 
paign before New York for months, and you shall 
stay with your father during that time.” 

He left the tent, and Husted and Denise, who were 
anxious to return to their home, started almost imme- 
diately afterwards. The news that was given them of 
Sarah and Bayard had lifted a great load from their 
hearts. While the court had been in session, the main 
body of the troops had entered New Rochelle, and 
their advance was pushing on toward Eastchester. 
The Husteds found, therefore, that they could not pass 
through the lines even under a flag of truce, nor could 
Lucie de bon Repos return to her home. Thus it was 
that for a month, the Husteds occupied the de bon 


386 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


Repos house in New Rochelle, while Lucie stayed in 
theirs at Westchester. Mr. de bon Repos had returned 
from New York that morning, and had been alarmed 
to find his daughter missing and no one able to tell 
where she had gone. The arrival of Pierre with his 
foster parents relieved his anxiety, and the tale of 
Pierre’s parentage filled him with delight. The Count 
de Brignac was much taken with the old gentleman, 
and Pierre told his hopes and fears in regard to Lucie ; 
the Count, full of joy in the daily companionship of 
his son, gave his consent to Pierre’s striving for Lucie’s 
hand. Some of the prisoners who were taken by the 
British repeated the story of Pierre to their captors, 
so the tale was the property of the allied armies ; and 
it soon spread among his former neighbors and friends 
and received many additions in the re-telling. In this 
way it finally came to the ears of James De Lancey. 

“ I am glad to hear it,” he said ; “ I always knew 
that there was gentle blood in Pierre, but this is better 
than I suspected. Poor ’Lizbeth ! ” he said to himself ; 
“ I am afraid I made a mistake there. I will tell her 
myself.” 

She listened to him with pale, set face and staring 
eyes; and when he had finished, she rose without a 
word and went to her room. If you are interested in 
the genealogy of the De Lancey family, you will find 
this entry under the children of Peter De Lancey, sec- 
ond son of the original immigrant, “ 6. — Elizabeth, 
died single.” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


FRANCK AND AMERICA 

For a month the allied armies threatened New York, 
then without any previous warning, they faced about 
on the nineteenth of August and began the march 
to Yorktown. Pierre went at once to Boston under 
orders from his father ; and the threatening forces now 
being withdrawn from their front, the British at once 
reoccupied their old posts in the county and the 
Husteds and Lucie de bon Repos returned to their 
respective homes. In Boston, whither Pierre’s story 
soon found its way, he became quite a hero, and was 
courted by many of the fairest dames of the eastern 
city. He was a welcome guest at the best houses in 
the town, and all with whom he came in contact did 
their utmost to please and entertain the handsome 
Frenchman. His movements were absolutely untram- 
meled, and no one not acquainted with his case would 
have known he was a prisoner on parole. The news 
of the capture of Cornwallis filled all hearts with joy, 
and foretold the end of the war. The Count de Brig- 
nac, instead of staying with the French troops in Vir- 
ginia, came on furlough to Boston, where he received 
quite as much attention as his son. In the spring of 
1782, the Count received assurances in answer to his 
inquiries that it would be safe for him to visit New 
387 


388 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


Rochelle, as the activity of the partisan operations on 
both sides had considerably diminished in view of the 
probable end of the war. 

Provided with proper passports, papers and servants, 
the two gentlemen left Boston on the first of April, 
and passed through the towns and villages of the sea 
coast. Everywhere, they were received with the 
heartiest hospitality by those to whom they presented 
their letters of introduction. Upon reaching Horse- 
neck in Connecticut, they were furnished with an 
escort by the commander of the district and passed over 
the By ram River into New York. They stopped that 
night at Haviland’s tavern in Rye, though Pierre’s 
impatience was such that he would have pushed on to 
New Rochelle. His father laughed at him and told 
him he was still a prisoner and subject to orders. The 
two in this journey had drawn very near to each other, 
and the love and respect which each gave to the other 
was vastly more than the sometimes conventional love 
between relatives. The Count had found his son a 
grown man, with his own experiences and his own 
judgments, of strong character and entitled to respect. 
The son had found the father a polished man of the 
world, with a breadth of learning and a liberality of 
view that was astonishing in that age. Upon making 
a remark to that effect to the Count, the latter had 
said : 

“ For many years, my Pierre, I was a man apart. 
The loss of your mother and of yourself preyed upon 
me so that I found my best relief in work and activity, 


FRANCE AND AMERICA 


380 


Women had no attraction for me, nor did the ordinary 
pleasures of the gentlemen of the army and of my 
class. Instead, I read all I could lay my hands upon 
and sought the friendship of philosophers and writers, 
of scientists and artists, of all those whose work tends 
to advance the world’s progress, not on account of 
their birth, but of their brains. I am not much of an 
original thinker, myself ; but I think I have gained by 
a sort of reflex action from contact with these abler 
men.” 

The only difference between them was on the matter 
of religion, the Count being a Catholic; but even here 
his liberality of opinion showed itself, as became one 
who read Locke and Voltaire and Milton and Rous- 
seau, and had weighed the opposing opinions of these 
and other philosophers. 

“ I should like you to become a Catholic, Pierre ; 
but I do not insist upon it. Our ancestors were Cath- 
olics, and we have inherited our religion from them, 
as we have done many other things. You are of an 
age to decide for yourself ; if Protestantism gives you 
that peace of mind and secures that rectitude of con- 
duct which is so necessary to the good man, why, I 
say, stick to it, by all means; when you find that it 
does not satisfy the yearnings of your soul, then come 
back to the belief of your forefathers. There are, I 
believe, many roads to heaven, just as I know there 
are many roads to Paris. Who can say absolutely 
that he, and he alone, is on the right one ? ” 

That night Pierre slept but poorly, and he was up 


390 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 

betimes in the morning, waiting with impatience for 
his father. The latter at breakfast rallied Pierre on 
his manner and on his want of appetite. 

“ However, my son, I sympathize with you. I 
know what it is to be in love ; for I have loved only 
once in my life and that truly. Like yourself, I was a 
man grown when the passion took possession of me, 
and I have never outlived it. Boyish love before 
twenty is not likely to last. God bring you success. 
Let us go.” 

An hour’s ride brought them to New Rochelle. 
Leaving his father and the escort at the tavern, Pierre 
went quickly to the de bon Repos house and raised the 
knocker gently. The door was opened to him by Mr. 
de bon Repos. 

“ Pierre, my son, I am glad to see you,” said the 
old man; “ walk in; you are welcome.” 

“ I thank you, sir. Where’s Lucie ? ” 

“ In the garden.” 

“ I will go to her,” he said, his face bright and his 
eyes shining with expectation and hope. The old 
man looked after him as he went rapidly through the 
passage and passed out of the back door. Pierre gave 
a quick glance around the garden. There she was, 
dressed in homespun and wearing a disfiguring sun- 
bonnet, engaged in transplanting lettuce to a permanent 
bed. She was kneeling upon the fresh soil and did 
not see him. He gazed at her for a minute, his blood 
a-tingle at the sight; then he walked on tiptoe until he 
was within a few feet of her kneeling form. 


FRANCE AND AMERICA 


391 


“ Lucie ! ” he called gently, but his voice had a ring 
in it that brought her to her feet in surprise, while 
blood flooded her cheeks and showed even under the 
tan. 

“ Pierre ! M’sieur de Brignac ! ” she cried, her hand 
going to her breast as if to still her heart’s wild 
beating. 

“ No; not M’sieur de Brignac, but Pierre. Say it.” 

“ Yes, Pierre.” 

“ Have you no other word for me, Lucie ? ” he 
asked. 

“ You are welcome; I am glad to see you.” She 
extended her hand and for the first time raised her eyes 
to his. He took her hand, but did not think it nec- 
essary to let it go again. Thus they looked into each 
other’s eyes for moments while she flushed and paled 
by turns and her knees shook under her. 

“ Do you know why I have come ? ” 

“ No, Pierre.” His name was uttered with a soft 
and lingering tenderness that set his blood on fire. 
For a moment he gazed into her downcast face — for 
she had dropped her eyes in sweet shame at his ques- 
tion — then he said : 

“ I have come because I love you ; I have come 
because I cannot live without you ; I have come 
because I want you to be my wife.” 

“ Yes, dear Pierre.” 

The answer was almost inaudible, but he heard ; and 
with a cry of joy, he drew her to him while his lips 
sought hers and found them. It seemed to her as if 


392 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


he were drawing her very soul through her lips. She 
drew back and looked at him for a moment ; then she 
laid her head upon his shoulder and sighed : 

“ I am so happy, dear Pierre, for I love you ; I love 
you, far better than your princess could have done.” 

Again he found her sweet mouth. Presently, she 
drew back and laughed. 

“ I am a perfect fright. Think of being wooed in 
this dress and hat ! My hands are dirty, and I’m sure 
there’s a smut of dirt upon my nose.” 

“ Dear little hands ! sweet, roughened hands that 
found their work and were not ashamed to do it. 
Please God, they will never work like this any more.” 

He raised them reverently to his lips and kissed 
them, dirt and all. His sympathy moved her almost 
as much as his love, and her eyes filled. She raised 
her brimming eyes to his, and offered her lips of her 
own accord. 

“ I love you dearly, my Pierre. Kiss me.” 

In another minute she drew herself back and cried : 

“ We must go and tell my father.” 

“ And mine,” cried Pierre. 

“ Good heavens! where is he? Not in the house, I 
hope. He has never seen me; and if he should see 
me like this ! ” 

Her voice was full of gentle horror at the thought. 
When they reached the house, she called to him from 
her doorway before she entered : 

“ Go in and talk to my father, and don’t you dare to 
call yours until I tell you you may, or I’ll hate you.” 


FRANCE AND AMERICA 


393 


She made a grimace and disappeared, while he 
smiled and entered the library to tell the news to Mr. 
de bon Repos. Twenty minutes later she entered with 
a demure smile upon her lips, and went and kissed 
her father. Then she turned and asked with mock 
anxiety : 

“ Do you think I will do, Pierre ? ” 

She had dressed herself in her best — a little worn 
and a good deal out of style — but saved with jealous 
care during this time of stress. Her magnificent hair 
could not be out of style, and this she had dressed to 
perfection. Pierre did not answer her question in 
words, but the glowing ardor and admiration of his 
look made the blood rise to her cheeks. 

“ You may call your father,” she said faintly and 
at her words he dashed out of the house. Ten minutes 
later he returned with the Count, who was more 
nervous than would have been expected of a thorough 
man of the world. Truth to tell, though he had con- 
sented to his son’s wooing in the exuberance of his 
joy at that son’s recovery, he was a little afraid that 
Lucie might be provincial and not so well-bred as a 
future Countess de Brignac should be. When he 
entered the room and saw this beautiful, young woman, 
his heart gave a throb of relief and pleasure. She was 
very nervous at meeting this polished gentleman, but 
she came forward with apparent calmness and took 
his outstretched hand. 

“ I am very happy to meet Pierre’s father,” she said 
in her full, rich voice. He raised her hand to his lips, 


394 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


but she came closer to him and raised her face to his, 
looking at him from the depths of her lovely eyes ; and 
with a gush of new-born tenderness, he leaned over 
and kissed her. 

“ When I first saw Pierre, I thought that he was 
what I would have liked my son to have been ; now that 
I have seen you, my daughter, I can say that I never 
imagined any one so lovely for his wife,” he said 
gallantly. 

Three days later Mr. de bon Repos and his daugh- 
ter left with the Count and Pierre for Boston. They 
left their house in charge of one of the neighbors ; for 
they were leaving their home never to return. Before 
they joined the waiting escort, they visited a grave in 
the little cemetery, and both came back with tear- 
dimmed faces and were silent for several hours after- 
wards. Their grief was respected by their compan- 
ions, whose sympathy went out to them, but not in 
words. Upon reaching Boston, there was a busy fort- 
night with dressmakers, and then Lucie became the 
wife of Pierre. The young couple went away for two 
weeks, and when they returned, the four sailed for 
France, the Count having received indefinite leave of 
absence from the Legion and carrying with him dis- 
patches for the Count de Vergennes, and letters for the 
parents of Denise. 

******* 

Eight years of perfect happiness had been passed at 
the Chateau de Brignac, and the older gentlemen had 


FRANCE AND AMERICA 


395 


renewed their youth in that of the three beautiful child- 
ren that had so far blessed the union of Pierre and 
Lucie: Pierre, Denise and Phillipe. The clouds of 
revolution were already rising on the horizon, but the 
peasants on the estate of the Count de Brignac had 
no heart in the agitation of the time, so happy and 
beneficent was the rule of their lord and his son, and 
so kind was the beloved chatelaine of the Chateau. 
But Pierre had been through the preliminary scenes 
of one revolution, and he knew that the French were 
not like the Americans, with centuries of freedom 
behind them, and he dreaded what the outcome might 
be. His worst fears were realized as the reports of 
outrages and destruction came to his ears. With 
timely foresight he began to send to England every- 
thing of value that the Chateau contained: pictures, 
records, papers, plate, books — everything in fact 
that was not absolutely necessary to their actual 
living. His father looked on and said but little; but 
Pierre knew that his father approved. As the year 
passed, the reports came of attacks made upon the 
castles of the nobility nearer them. Lucie’s face 
began to wear an alarmed expression, and she would 
gaze in anxiety upon her children playing upon the 
terrace. Pierre caught the look several times, and at 
last, after the report came of a particularly fiendish 
attack by the revolutionaries, in which several young 
children had been killed whose only crime was that 
they belonged to the noblesse, Pierre put his arm about 
her waist and said : 


396 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


“ Sweetheart, what is this country to us? It is not 
ours. Why should we stay here and run the risks 
that are daily coming nearer ? The look on your face 
makes me want to play the coward. Let us run away 
and not wait for the storm to break upon us.” 

“Just as you say, my husband;” but Pierre could 
see the relief in her face and hear it in her voice at 
his suggestion. He went at once to Bordeaux, and 
one of the first persons he met was our old friend, 
Captain Roscoe. 

“ Come to Brignac with me,” he said ; and the 
Captain answered: 

“ I had never expected to see Brignac again but 
since you invite me, Pierre, I will come.” 

He was welcomed so heartily that the tears came 
into his eyes. Pierre took him into his confidence; 
and Roscoe advised their instant departure. 

“ I sail myself in two days for New York,” he said, 
“ but you want to go to England ; otherwise I would 
take you.” 

Mr. de bon Repos overheard the words, “ New 
York,” and at once looked up with a heavy sigh, which 
suggested to Pierre a thought, “ Why not New 
York?” Lucie beamed at the suggestion, and said: 

“ My father longs for his old home, Pierre ; and I 
believe it would make him happy to know that he 
might die there and be buried by the side of my mother. 
Besides,” and she whispered something into his ear, at 
which he smiled and kissed her. 

“ Then New York it is.” 


FRANCE AND AMERICA 


397 


For two nights, Roscoe’s crew was engaged in 
secretly carrying to his vessel the luggage of his 
passengers, and no hint of their departure got abroad. 
Then, on the third night, for Roscoe had postponed 
his departure another day, the whole party from the 
Chateau descended the river and went on board, and 
the shores of the Garonne knew them no more for 
many years ; not until Napoleon had brought glory and 
safety to France. 

When they arrived in New York they found it the 
capital of the country under the Constitution. Pierre 
looked with amazement upon its busy streets, its 
crowded wharves, its teeming population, remember- 
ing how he had seen it last, with grass-grown streets, 
neglected buildings and a population principally of 
soldiers and camp followers. 

They sent their belongings by the stage to New 
Rochelle, and hired a coach for their own transporta- 
tion, though the Count and Pierre went on horseback. 
Everywhere were changes for the better. The great 
Boston road over which they passed to Kingsbridge 
and beyond was crowded with vehicles and passengers, 
the great estate of Colonel Philipse had been confis- 
cated and sold in parcels, the old farms had been reoc- 
cupied and many new ones opened, So that it was a fair 
and smiling country through which they passed. Mr. 
de bon Repos had kept possession of his old home and 
it had been rented during his absence. They found it 
in good condition, but as the tenant did not need all 
the rooms it contained, they easily prevailed upon him 


398 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


to give up the larger portion of it for their use. A 
liberal inducement offered him by Pierre caused him to 
vacate it altogether as soon as he found lodgement 
elsewhere. And then they settled down to a quiet, 
peaceful and happy life, but above all, a safe one. 
Often did they thank heaven that they had left France 
when the reports of the horrible atrocities of the Revo- 
lution came drifting across the Atlantic. 

Pierre lost no time in visting his foster-parents and 
was welcomed by them both with their old-time love 
and cordiality. From them he learned that Bayard 
had drifted back after the war and had resumed the 
practice of his profession. He had kept clear of the 
Husteds for some time; but hearing often of the 
beautiful daughter of the couple, he, at last, out of 
curiosity placed himself where he could see Sarah. 
He was struck by her appearance and manners and 
came to see her, begging her forgiveness for his 
neglect and unkindness, and asking her once more to 
be his wife. She knew the story told by Father 
Farmer and she rejected his repeated proposals, tier 
contempt and aloofness increased his desire, until he 
was as much in love with her as it was possible for 
a man of his character to be. He knew there was 
doubt as to the Catholic marriage and the legitimacy 
of Denise and in time, he might, perhaps, have won her 
by that argument to consent to another marriage. 
Finding her obdurate, Bayard thought that if he could 
establish his marital rights legally, she would be forced 
into his arms. Through his friends, he had a bill 


FRANCE AND AMERICA 


399 


passed by the State legislature legalizing their marriage 
by the Catholic priest; then he went triumphantly to 
Sarah ; but found to his dismay that she refused abso- 
lutely to live with him as his wife, and that he had 
deprived himself of the only argument that he had for 
a re-marriage. He threatened to force her to live with 
him by carrying the matter into the courts but she told 
him that no court would make her live with him nor 
make her surrender Denise into his care after hear- 
ing the story of his marriage and his effort to trick 
her. 

He was astute enough to know that this was so ; and 
he was still further dismayed when she demanded sup- 
port for herself and child. Upon his refusal to grant 
it unless she lived with him, she, herself, went into 
court and won her case, gaining the sympathy and 
commendation of the court, as well as that of the 
public at large. 

A few months after their arrival in New Rochelle, 
Pierre’s fourth child, another boy, was born in the old 
house. A few months later, Mr de bon Repos died 
and was buried by the side of his wife. The Count 
found plenty of congenial companionship among the 
gentlemen of the neighborhood and in New York, and 
his polished manners and great knowledge made him 
a general favorite; but best of all he loved the com- 
pany of Pierre and his wife. He lived to be an old 
man and returned to France with his children, dying 
in his ancestral home. Roscoe, too, returned to Brig- 
nac at the request of Pierre, and spent his last days 


400 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


there, his chief enjoyment being to relate his voyages 
and his adventures to Pierre’s children. 

And so, with Pierre and Lucie and their family 
happy in their home in New Rochelle, and with pros- 
pective happiness and long life in France, we take 
leave of them in the home where they first met as 
children and agreed to marry. 


NOTES 


A, page io. De Lancey’s Mills— Jonas Bronk, or Brunk, 
was the first recorded white settler on the mainland north of the 
Harlem River (1640). He established mills on Bronk’s River 
(the Bronx) about three miles from its mouth. These mills were 
afterwards owned by Richardson and Jesup, and were also 
known as Byvanck’s Mills, from the Widow Byvanck they passed 
into the possession of Etienne, or Stephen, De Lancey, the first 
of the name in America. He left them at his death to his son 
Peter, who thus became known as “Peter of the Mills/’ Their 
site is now within the bounds of Bronx Park. 

B, page 11. Van Cortlandt Mansion. — This stone mansion 
was erected by Frederick Van Cortlandt in 1748. He died the 
following year, and his property, including the mansion, passed 
by entail to his son Jacobus, better known as Colonel James 
Van Cortlandt, a loyalist during the Revolution, but of a mild 
type. Washington and Rochambeau were both entertained 
in the mansion, which is now used as a museum of colonial and 
Revolutionary relics. It is situated near the southern end of 
Van Cortlandt Park. 

C, page 13. Slaves. — There were not so many negro slaves 
in New York as many people think. According to a census taken 
in 1755, there were only seventy-three in the whole county of 
Westchester. 

D, page 18. Huguenots. — The Edict of Nantes, granted by 
Henry IV. of France, secured to his Protestant subjects relig- 
ions toleration. In 1685, Louis XIV. revoked the Edict, and 
the persecution of the Huguenots began, causing many thous- 
ands to leave their native land and seek asylum elsewhere. 
Governor Jacob Leisler purchased from Thomas Pell, in 1689, 

401 


402 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


six thousand acres of land lying along the shore of Long Island 
Sound; and in the same year a colony of Huguenots from the 
vicinity of La Rochelle established themselves on the Sound, 
calling their settlement New Rochelle, after their old home in 
France. 

E, page 43. Contraband Trade. — Many of the wealthy gen- 
tlemen of the colonies were interested in the contraband trade. 
The severity of the navigation laws bore heavily on the colonists; 
and the diversity of the shore line with its innumerable bays, 
rivers and inlets made the smuggling of goods easy. It has been 
stated on good authority that one-third of the colonial trade 
was contraband. 

F, page 45. Father Steinmeyer. — The missions of the 
Catholic Church in Pennsylvania and Maryland sent mission- 
aries among the different colonies to serve the communicants of 
their Church and to perform the rite of baptism. Father Stein- 
meyer served in New York City and its vicinity for many years 
before the Revolution. It is probable that the first open ser- 
vice of the Catholic Church was performed by the Abb6 Robin 
in 1781. He was chaplain to the French army and has left a 
series of letters dealing with manners and customs in America, 
for he was with the army during its American experience. The 
first recorded celebration of the mass was in 1784, at the resi- 
dence of the Spanish minister to the United States in the city 
of New York. 

G, page 61. King’s College.— The college was chartered in 
1754, and was situated west of Broadway above Vesey Street, 
with its land sloping down to the Hudson. College Place, now 
known as Church Street, preserved for many years the fact of 
the college having been located in that vicinity. During the 
Revolution, the college was closed as an institution of learning, 
but the buildings were occupied as hospitals. In 1784, the 
college was re-opened and named Columbia, since developing 
into the present university of the same name, located on Morn- 
ingside Heights. 


NOTES 


403 


H, page 75. Fraunce’s Tavern. — The text gives the main 
history of the tavfcrn. The building still stands at the corner 
of Broad and Pearl Streets, and during the years 1906 and 1907, 
it has been restored to its original condition as when owned by 
Mr. De Lancey, by whom it was built. The work of restoration 
has been done under the auspices of the Sons of the Revolution; 
and the old edifice is to be used as a museum of historical relics. 

I, page 109. Burn’s Tavern. — The tavern, which was one of 
the most important in the city, stood on the west side of Broad- 
way opposite the Bowling Green. Several of the British com- 
manders had their headquarters in the tavern during the British 
occupancy. 

J, page 194. Colonel Philipse. — The Colonel Philipse of the 
story was the third lord of the manor of Philipseburg, which, 
roughly speaking, included all the land between the Hudson 
and Bronx Rivers, and between Spuyten Duyvel Creek and the 
Croton River. His manor house still stands in the city of 
Yonkers where it serves as the City Hall. In 1779, the legis- 
lature of the State proclaimed him a traitor and confiscated all 
his property, as well as that of his sisters, Mrs. Beverly Robin- 
son and Mrs. Roger Morris. England gave him about 1300,000 
to indemnify him for his losses for remaining loyal to the crown. 

K, page 260. Whaleboats. — During the war, each State 
maintained a navy of its own. The towns along the Sound 
maintained armed whaleboats, which were used for making 
descents upon the Tories of Long Island and for stopping vessels 
going to and from New York with supplies for the city. The 
shore coast of Westchester County was patrolled principally by 
whaleboatmen from Darien, Connecticut. 

L, page 267. Captain Montressor.— On the afternoon of 
Sunday, September 22, 1776, Captain Montressor, of Sir William 
Howe’s staff, visited the American lines under a flag of truce. 
He was met by Adjutant-General Reed, General Putnam, Cap- 
tain Alexander Hamilton, Captain William Hull and others. 
In the course of conversation, he mentioned the capture and 


404 A PRINCESS AND ANOTHER 


death of a spy named Hale, a captain in Knowlton’s Rangers. 
Hull, who was a classmate and intimate friend of Hale, was 
shocked to hear of his friend’s death and questioned Montres- 
sor as to the facts, which he afterwards recorded. These facts 
are substantially as given in the story. (See the monograph 
on Nathan Hale by Professor Johnson of the New York City 
College.) 

M, page 273. The Commons. — The Commons, or Fields, 
occupied what is now included within the triangle between 
Park Row (the Bowery Lane), Broadway and Chambers Street; 
i.e.y the City Hall Park. In 1820, the legislature enacted that 
the Common should be at the Union Square, and public meet- 
ings of the citizens have been held there since that time. 

N, page 304. Death of Lieutenant-Colonel Greene. — The raid 
by De Lancey’s corps was as given in the story. The State of 
New York has within recent years erected a monument at York- 
town (the ancient Crompond) in the northern part of Westchester 
County to commemorate the services and deaths of Greene, 
Flagg and William Dyckman. The first two were from Rhode 
Island, the last was a native of the county and a famous guide 
for the patriots, who was killed near old Eastchester Church 
near the end of the war. The monument is erected in the 
burial-ground of the Presbyterian Church at Yorktown, within 
whose precincts also lie the bodies of a number of French soldiers 
who died during the two encampments of the French army in 
this vicinity, while on its way to join the Americans, and later, 
on its route from Yorktown to Boston, to re-embark for France. 

Streets. — Great Queen Street was renamed Pearl Street 
after the Revolution, so that Fraunce’s Tavern now stands at 
the corner of Pearl and Broad Streets. 

The Boston Post-road began at the head of Broadway and 
passed over what is now Park Row to the Bowery Lane, cross- 
ing the present Union Square and continuing on the Blooming- 
dale Road (present Broadway) to about Twenty-sixth Street, 
where it swung to the eastward, passing through McGown’s 
Pass in the northeast part of Central Park, and thence on to 
Harlem and Kingsbridge, thence eastward to Williamsbridge, 


NOTES 


405 


and thence north and east to Eastchester and New Rochelle. 
The present Boston Road in Bronx Borough was not laid out 
until 1797-8, when Coles built the first Harlem Bridge at Third 
Avenue and -continued his toll-road on to New Rochelle, where 
it joined the more ancient road. 

The ancient Dutch city of New Amsterdam extended only 
as far as the wall, the line of the present Wall Street. The 
present Broadway began at the Bowling Green in front of the 
Fort and extended to the wall; it was called by the Dutch the 
“Heere Straat.” The English renamed it Broadway, and 
during their occupancy of the city extended it as far as Vesey 
Street (named after the Rev. William Vesey, the first rector of 
Trinity Church), calling the new section Great George Street. 
After the Revolution, the whole street was named Broadway. 
In 1807, a commission was appointed to lay out the streets for 
the upper portion of the city, and Broadway was continued over 
the Bloomingdale Road about on its present line, joining the 
Kingsbridge Road (part of the Boston Post-road) on Washing- 
ton Heights. 





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